THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 


BNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 


A     STORY     OF     1914 


BY 

LOUIS   TRACY 

Author  of  "  The  Wings  of  the  Morning,"  "  Flower  of  the 
Gorse,"  etc..  etc. 


NEW    YORK 

EDWARD    J.    CLODE 

PUBLISHER 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 

EDWARD   J.    CLODE 

All  Rights  Reserved 


PREFACE 

THIS  book  demands  no  explanatory  word. 
But  I  do  wish  to  assure  the  reader  that  every 
incident  in  its  pages  casting  discredit  on  the 
invaders  of  Belgium  is  founded  on  actual  fact. 
I  refer  those  who  may  doubt  the  truth  of  this 
sweeping  statement  to  the  official  records  pub- 
lished by  the  Governments  of  Great  Britain, 
France,  and  Belgium. 

L.  T. 


2133303 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     THE  LAVA-STREAM     .       .       .       .  1 

II     IN  THE  VORTEX 23 

III  FIRST  BLOOD        .       .       .       .       .  39 

IV  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE      ...  58 
V     BILLETS        ......  75 

VI     THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  ...  94 

VEI     THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT       .       .       .  Ill 

VIII     A  RESPITE    .       ...       .       .129 

IX     AN  EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN 

METHODS      .       .       .       .       .      ...  147 

X    ANDENNE     .       .       .       .       .       *  166 

XI    A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM      .       .  186 

XII    AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH  .       .       .  206 

XIII  THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY  .       .  226 

XIV  THE  MARNE — AND  AFTER  .       .       .  246 
XV    "CARRY  ON!"  264 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  LAVA-STREAM 

"TT^OB  God's  sake,  if  you  are  an  English- 

ri     man,  help  me!" 

That  cry  of  despair,  so  subdued  yet 
piercing  in  its  intensity,  reached  Arthur  Dal- 
roy  as  he  pressed  close  on  the  heels  of  an  all- 
powerful  escort  in  Lieutenant  Karl  von  Halwig, 
of  the  Prussian  Imperial  Guard,  at  the  ticket- 
barrier  of  the  Friedrich  Strasse  Station  on  the 
night  of  Monday,  3rd  August  1914. 

An  officer's  uniform  is  a  passe-partout  in 
Germany;  the  showy  uniform  of  the  Imperial 
Guard  adds  awe  to  authority.  It  may  well  be 
doubted  if  any  other  insignia  of  rank  could  have 
passed  a  companion  in  civilian  attire  so  easily 
through  the  official  cordon  which  barred  the 
chief  railway  station  at  Berlin  that  night  to  all 
unauthorised  persons. 

Von  Halwig  was  in  front,  impartially  cursing 
and  shoving  aside  the  crowd  of  police  and  rail- 
way men.  A  gigantic  ticket-inspector,  catching 
sight  of  the  Guardsman,  bellowed  an  order  to 
' '  clear  the  way ; ' '  but  a  general  officer  created  a 
momentary  diversion  by  choosing  that  for- 
bidden exit.  Von  Halwig 's  heels  clicked,  and 
his  right  hand  was  raised  in  a  salute,  so  Dalroy 
was  given  a  few  seconds  wherein  to  scrutinise 


THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 


the  face  of  the  terrified  woman  who  had  ad- 
dressed him.  He  saw  that  she  was  young,  an 
Englishwoman,  and  undoubtedly  a  lady  by  her 
speech  and  garb. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  asked. 

' '  Get  me  into  a  train  for  the  Belgian  frontier. 
I  have  plenty  of  money,  but  these  idiots  will 
not  even  allow  me  to  enter  the  station." 

He  had  to  decide  in  an  instant.  He  had 
every  reason  to  believe  that  a  woman  friendless 
and  alone,  especially  a  young  and  good-looking 
one,  was  far  safer  in  Berlin — where  some  thou- 
sands of  Britons  and  Americans  had  been 
caught  in  the  lava-wave  of  red  war  now  flowing 
unrestrained  from  the  Danube  to  the  North 
Sea — than  in  the  train  which  would  start  for 
Belgium  within  half-an-hour.  But  the  tearful 
indignation  in  the  girl's  voice — even  her  folly 
in  describing  as  "idiots"  the  hectoring  Jacks- 
in-omce,  any  one  of  whom  might  have  under- 
stood her — led  impulse  to  triumph  over  saner 
judgment. 

* '  Come  along !  quick ! "  he  muttered.  ' '  You  're 
my  cousin,  Evelyn  Fane ! ' ' 

With  a  self-control  that  was  highly  creditable, 
the  young  lady  thrust  a  hand  through  his  arm. 
In  the  other  hand  she  carried  a  reticule.  The 
action  surprised  Dalroy,  though  feminine  intui- 
tion had  only  displayed  common-sense. 

"Have  you  any  luggage?"  he  said. 

"Nothing  beyond  this  tiny  bag.  It  was  hope- 
less to  think  of " 


THE  LAVA-STREAM 


Von  Halwig  turned  at  the  barrier  to  insure 
his  English  friend's  safe  passage. 

11  Hallo!"  he  cried.  Evidently  he  was  taken 
aback  by  the  unexpected  addition  to  the  party. 

"A  fellow-countrywoman  in  distress,"  smiled 
Dalroy,  speaking  in  German.  Then  he  added, 
in  English,  "It's  all  right.  As  it  happens,  two 
places  are  reserved." 

Von  Halwig  laughed  in  a  way  which  the 
Englishman  would  have  resented  at  any  other 
moment. 

' '  Excellent ! "  he  guffawed.  * '  Beautifully  con- 
trived, my  friend. — Hi,  there,  sheep's-head!"— 
this  to  the  ticket-inspector — "let  that  porter 
with  the  portmanteau  pass !" 

Thus  did  Captain  Arthur  Dalroy  find  himself 
inside  the  Friedrich  Strasse  Station  on  the 
night  when  Germany  was  already  at  war  with 
Russia  and  France.  With  him  was  the  stout 
leather  bag  into  which  he  had  thrown  hurriedly 
such  few  articles  as  were  indispensable — an 
ironic  distinction  when  viewed  in  the  light  of 
subsequent  events ;  with  him,  too,  was  a  charm- 
ing and  trustful  and  utterly  unknown  travelling 
companion. 

Von  Halwig  was  not  only  vastly  amused  but 
intensely  curious ;  his  endeavours  to  scrutinise 
the  face  of  a  girl  whom  the  Englishman  had 
apparently  conjured  up  out  of  the  maelstrom 
of  Berlin  were  almost  rude.  They  failed,  how- 
ever, at  the  outset.  Every  woman  knows  ex- 
actly how  to  attract  or  repel  a  man's  admira- 


THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 


tion ;  this  young  lady  was  evidently  determined 
that  only  the  vaguest  hint  of  her  features 
should  be  vouchsafed  to  the  Guardsman.  A 
fairly  large  hat  and  a  veil,  assisted  by  the  angle 
at  which  she  held  her  head,  defeated  his  intent. 
She  still  clung  to  Dalroy's  arm,  and  relin- 
quished it  only  when  a  perspiring  platform- 
inspector,  armed  with  a  list,  brought  the  party 
to  a  first-class  carriage.  There  were  no 
sleeping-cars  on  the  train.  Every  wagon-lit  in 
Berlin  had  been  commandeered  by  the  staff. 

"I  have  had  a  not-to-be-described-in- words 
difficulty  in  retaining  these  corner  places,"  he 
said,  whereupon  Dalroy  gave  him  a  five-mark 
piece,  and  the  girl  was  installed  in  the  seat 
facing  the  engine. 

The  platform-inspector  had  not  exaggerated 
his  services.  The  train  was  literally  besieged. 
Scores  of  important  officials  were  storming  at 
railway  employes  because  accommodation  could 
not  be  found.  Dalroy,  wishful  at  first  that 
Von  Halwig  would  take  himself  off  instead  of 
standing  near  the  open  door  and  peering  at  the 
girl,  soon  changed  his  mind.  There  could  not 
be  the  slightest  doubt  that  were  it  not  for  the 
presence  of  an  officer  of  the  Imperial  Guard  he 
and  his  "cousin"  would  have  been  unceremoni- 
ously bundled  out  on  to  the  platform  to  make 
room  for  some  many-syllabled  functionary  who 
"simply  must  get  to  the  front."  As  for  the 
lady,  she  was  the  sole  representative  of  her  sex 
travelling  west  that  night. 


THE  LAVA-STREAM 


Meanwhile  the  two  young  men  chatted  ami- 
cably, using  German  and  English  with  equal 
ease. 

"I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake  in  going 
by  this  route,"  said  Von  Halwig.  "The 
frontier  lines  will  be  horribly  congested  dur- 
ing the  next  few  days.  You  see,  we  have 
to  be  in  Paris  in  three  weeks,  so  we  must 
hurry." 

"You  are  very  confident,"  said  the  English- 
man pleasantly. 

He  purposely  avoided  any  discussion  of  his 
reasons  for  choosing  the  Cologne-Brussels- 
Ostend  line.  As  an  officer  of  the  British  army, 
he  was  particularly  anxious  to  watch  the 
vaunted  German  mobilisation  in  its  early 
phases. 

"Confident!  Why  not?  Those  wretched 
little  piou-pious" — a  slang  term  for  the  French 
infantry — "will  run  long  before  they  see  the 
whites  of  our  eyes." 

"I  haven't  met  any  French  regiments  since 
I  was  a  youngster;  but  I  believe  France  is  far 
better  organised  now  than  in  1870,"  was  the 
noncommittal  reply. 

Von  Halwig  threw  out  his  right  arm  in  a 
wide  sweep.  '  *  We  shall  brush  them  aside — so, ' ' 
he  cried.  "The  German  army  was  strong  in 
those  days;  now  it  is  irresistible.  You  are  a 
soldier.  You  know.  To-night's  papers  say 
England  is  wavering  between  peace  and  war. 
But  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  be  wise.  That 


THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 


Channel  is  a  great  asset,  a  great  safeguard, 
eh?" 

Again  Dalroy  changed  the  subject.  "If  it 
is  a  fair  question,  when  do  you  start  for  the 
front!" 

"To-morrow,  at  six  in  the  morning." 

"How  very  kind  of  you  to  spare  such  valua- 
ble time  now!" 

' '  Not  at  all !  Everything  is  ready.  Germany 
is  always  ready.  The  Emperor  says  'Mobilise,' 
and,  behold,  we  cross  the  frontier  within  the 
hour!" 

'  *  War  is  a  rotten  business, ' '  commented  Dal- 
roy thoughtfully.  "I've  seen  something  of  it 
in  India,  where,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  a 
scrap  in  the  hills  brings  the  fighting  men  alone 
into  line.  But  I'm  sorry  for  the  unfortunate 
peasants  and  townspeople  who  will  suffer. 
What  of  Belgium,  for  instance  ? ' ' 

"Ha!  Les  braves  Beiges!"  laughed  the 
other.  "They  will  do  as  we  tell  them.  What 
else  is  possible?  To  adapt  one  of  your  own 
proverbs:  'Needs  must  when  the  German 
drives!'  " 

Dalroy  understood  quite  well  that  Von  Hal- 
wig's  bumptious  tone  was  not  assumed.  The 
Prussian  Junker  could  hardly  think  otherwise. 
But  the  glances  cast  by  the  Guardsman  at  the 
silent  figure  seated  near  the  window  showed 
that  some  part  of  his  vapouring  was  meant  to 
impress  the  feminine  heart.  A  gallant  figure 
he  cut,  too,  as  he  stood  there,  caressing  his 


THE  LAVA-STREAM 


Kaiser-fashioned  moustaches  with  one  hand 
while  the  other  rested  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 
He  was  tall,  fully  six  feet,  and,  according  to 
Dalroy's  standard  of  physical  fitness,  at  least 
a  stone  too  heavy.  The  personification  of 
Nietzsche's  Teutonic  "overman,"  the  "big 
blonde  brute"  who  is  the  German  military 
ideal,  Dalroy  classed  him,  in  the  expressive 
phrase  of  the  regimental  mess,  as  "a  good  bit 
of  a  bounder."  Yet  he  was  a  patrician  by 
birth,  or  he  could  not  hold  a  commission  in  the 
Imperial  Guard,  and  he  had  been  most  helpful 
and  painstaking  that  night,  so  perforce  one 
must  be  civil  to  him. 

Dalroy  himself,  nearly  as  tall,  was  lean  and 
lithe,  hard  as  nails,  yet  intellectual,  a  cavalry 
officer  who  had  passed  through  the  Oxford 
mint. 

By  this  time  four  other  occupants  of  the 
compartment  were  in  evidence,  and  a  ticket- 
examiner  came  along.  Dalroy  produced  a  num- 
ber of  vouchers.  The  girl,  who  obviously  spoke 
German,  leaned  out,  purse  in  hand,  and  was 
about  to  explain  that  the  crush  in  the  booking- 
hall  had  prevented  her  from  obtaining  a 
ticket. 

But  Dalroy  intervened.  "I  have  your  tick- 
et," he  said,  announcing  a  singular  fact  in  the 
most  casual  manner  he  could  command. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  instantly,  trying  to 
conceal  her  own  surprise.  But  her  eyes  met 
Von  Halwig's  bold  stare,  and  read  therein  not 


8  THE  DAY  OF  WKATH 

only  a  ready  appraisement  of  her  good  looks 
but  a  perplexed  half -recognition. 

The  railwayman  raised  a  question.  Contrary 
to  the  general  custom,  the  vouchers  bore  names, 
which  he  compared  with  a  list. 

' '  These  tickets  are  for  Herren  Fane  and  Dal- 
roy,  and  I  find  a  lady  here,'*  he  said  sus- 
piciously. 

"Fraulein  Evelyn  Fane,  my  cousin,"  ex- 
plained Dalroy.  ' '  A  mistake  of  the  issuing  of- 
fice." 

"But " 

"Ach,  was!"  broke  in  Von  Hal  wig  impa- 
tiently. "You  hear.  Some  fool  has  blundered. 
It  is  sufficient," 

At  any  rate,  his  word  sufficed.  Dalroy  en- 
tered the  carriage,  and  the  door  was  closed  and 
locked. 

"Never  say  I  haven't  done  you  a  good  turn," 
grinned  the  Prussian.  "A  pleasant  journey, 
though  it  may  be  a  slow  one.  Don't  be  sur- 
prised if  I  am  in  Aachen  before  you. ' ' 

Then  he  coloured.  He  had  said  too  much. 
One  of  the  men  in  the  compartment  gave  him 
a  sharp  glance.  Aachen,  better  known  to  trav- 
elling Britons  as  Aix-la-Chapelle,  lay  on  the 
road  to  Belgium,  not  to  France. 

"Well,  to  our  next  meeting!"  he  went  on 
boisterously.  "Run  across  to  Paris  during  the 
occupation. ' ' 

"Good-bye!  And  accept  my  very  grateful 
thanks,"  said  Dalroy,  and  the  train  started. 


THE  LAVA-STREAM 


"I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  obliged  I  am," 
said  a  sweet  voice  as  he  settled  down  into  his 
seat.  ' '  Please,  may  I  pay  you  now  for  the  ticket 
which  you  supplied  so  miraculously!" 

"No  miracle,  but  a  piece  of  rare  good-luck," 
he  said.  "One  of  the  attaches  at  our  Embassy 
arranged  to  travel  to  England  to-night,  or  I 
would  never  have  got  away,  even  with  the  sup- 
port of  the  State  Councillor  who  requested 
Lieutenant  von  Halwig  to  befriend  me.  Then, 
at  the  last  moment,  Fane  couldn't  come.  I 
meant  asking  Von  Halwig  to  send  a  messenger 
to  the  Embassy  with  the  spare  ticket." 

'  *  So  you  will  forward  the  money  to  Mr.  Fane 
with  my  compliments,"  said  the  girl,  opening 
her  purse. 

Dalroy  agreed.  There  was  no  other  way  out 
of  the  difficulty.  Incidentally,  he  could  not  help 
noticing  that  the  lady  was  well  supplied  with 
gold  and  notes. 

As  they  were  fellow-travellers  by  force  of 
circumstances,  Dalroy  took  a  card  from  the 
pocket-book  in  which  he  was  securing  a  one- 
hundred-mark  note. 

"We  have  a  long  journey  before  us,  and  may 
as  well  get  to  know  each  other  by  name,"  he 
said. 

The  girl  smiled  acquiescence.  She  read, 
"Captain  Arthur  Dalroy,  2nd  Bengal  Lancers, 
Junior  United  Service  Club." 

"I  haven't  a  card  in  my  bag,"  she  said 
simply,  "but  my  name  is  Beresford — Irene 


10  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Beresford — Miss  Beresford,"  and  she  coloured 
prettily.  "I  have  made  an  effort  of  the  ex- 
planation," she  went  on;  "but  I  think  it  is 
stupid  of  women  not  to  let  people  know  at  once 
whether  they  are  married  or  single." 

"I'll  be  equally  candid,"  he  replied.  "I'm 
not  married,  nor  likely  to  be." 

"Is  that  defiance,  or  merely  self-defence?" 

"Neither.  A  bald  fact.  I  hold  with  Kitch- 
ener that  a  soldier  should  devote  himself  ex- 
clusively to  his  profession." 

1 '  It  would  certainly  be  well  for  many  a  heart- 
broken woman  in  Europe  to-day  if  all  soldiers 
shared  your  opinion,"  was  the  answer;  and 
Dalroy  knew  that  his  vis-d-vis  had  deftly 
guided  their  chatter  on  to  a  more  sedate  plane. 

The  train  halted  an  unconscionable  time  at  a 
suburban  station,  and  again  at  Charlottenburg. 
The  four  Germans  in  the  compartment,  all 
Prussian  officers,  commented  on  the  delay,  and 
one  of  them  made  a  Joke  of  it. 

"The  signals  must  be  against  us  at  Liege," 
he  laughed. 

"Perhaps  England  has  sent  a  regiment  of 
Territorials  across  by  the  Ostend  boat, ' '  chimed 
in  another.  Then  he  turned  to  Dalroy,  and  said 
civilly,  "You  are  English.  Your  country  will 
not  be  so  mad  as  to  join  in  this  adventure,  will 
she?" 

"This  is  a  war  of  diplomats,"  said  Dalroy, 
resolved  to  keep  a  guard  on  his  tongue.  ' '  I  am 
quite  sure  that  no  one  in  England  wants  war." 


THE  LAVA-STREAM  11 

"But  will  England  fight  if  Germany  invades 
Belgium?" 

' '  Surely  Germany  will  do  no  such  thing.  The 
integrity  of  Belgium  is  guaranteed  by  treaty.'* 

"Your  friend  the  lieutenant,  then,  did  not 
tell  you  that  our  army  crossed  the  frontier 
to-day?" 

' '  Is  that  possible  ? ' ' 

"Yes.  It  is  no  secret  now.  Didn't  you 
realise  what  he  meant  when  he  said  his  regiment 
was  going  to  Aachen?  But,  what  does  it  mat- 
ter? Belgium  cannot  resist.  She  must  give 
free  passage  to  our  troops.  She  will  protest,  of 
course,  just  to  save  her  face. ' ' 

The  talk  became  general  among  the  men.  At 
the  moment  there  was  a  fixed  belief  in  Germany 
that  Britain  would  stand  aloof  from  the  quarrel. 
So  convinced  was  Austria  of  the  British  atti- 
tude that  the  Viennese  mob  gathered  outside 
the  English  ambassador's  residence  that  same 
evening,  and  cheered  enthusiastically. 

During  another  long  wait  Dalroy  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  clamour  and  bustle  of  a  crowded 
platform  to  say  to  Miss  Beresford  in  a  low 
tone,  "Are  you  well  advised  to  proceed  via 
Brussels?  Why  not  branch  off  at  Oberhausen, 
and  go  home  by  way  of  Flushing?" 

"I  must  meet  my  sister  in  Brussels,"  said 
the  girl.  "She  is  younger  than  I,  and  at  school 
there.  I  am  not  afraid — now.  They  will  not 
interfere  with  any  one  in  this  train,  especially  a 
woman.  But  how  about  you?  You  have  the 


12  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

unmistakable  look  of  a  British  officer." 

"Have  I?"  he  said,  smiling.  "That  is  just 
why  I  am  going  through,  I  suppose." 

Neither  could  guess  the  immense  significance 
of  those  few  words.  There  was  a  reasonable 
chance  of  escape  through  Holland  during  the 
next  day.  By  remaining  in  the  Belgium-bound 
train  they  were,  all  unknowing,  entering  the 
crater  of  a  volcano. 

The  ten-hours'  run  to  Cologne  was  drawn 
out  to  twenty.  Time  and  again  they  were 
shunted  into  sidings  to  make  way  for  troop 
trains  and  supplies.  At  a  wayside  station  a 
bright  moon  enabled  Dalroy  to  take  stock  of 
two  monster  howitzers  mounted  on  specially 
constructed  bogie  trucks.  He  estimated  their 
bore  at  sixteen  or  seventeen  inches ;  the  fittings 
and  accessories  of  each  gun  filled  nine  or  ten 
trucks.  How  prepared  Germany  was!  How 
thorough  her  organisation!  Yet  the  hurrying 
forward  of  these  giant  siege-guns  was  prema- 
ture, to  put  it  mildly?  Or  were  the  German 
generals  really  convinced  that  they  would 
sweep  every  obstacle  from  their  path,  and  ham- 
mer their  way  into  Paris  on  a  fixed  date  1  Dal- 
roy thought  of  England,  and  sighed,  because  his 
mind  turned  first  to  the  army — barely  one  hun- 
dred thousand  trained  men.  Then  he  remem- 
bered the  British  fleet,  and  the  outlook  was 
more  reassuring ! 

After  a  night  of  fitful  sleep  dawn  found  the 
travellers  not  yet  half-way.  The  four  Germans 


THE  LAVA-STREAM  13 

were  furious.  They  held  staff  appointments, 
and  had  been  assured  in  Berlin  that  the  clock- 
work regularity  of  mobilisation  arrangements 
would  permit  this  particular  train  to  cover  the 
journey  according  to  schedule.  Meals  were 
irregular  and  scanty.  At  one  small  town,  in 
the  early  morning,  Dalroy  secured  a  quantity 
of  rolls  and  fruit,  and  all  benefited  later  by  his 
forethought. 

Newspapers  bought  en  route  contained  dark 
forebodings  of  England's  growing  hostility.  A 
special  edition  of  a  Hanover  journal  spoke  of 
an  ultimatum,  a  word  which  evoked  harsh 
denunciations  of  " British  treachery"  from  the 
Germans.  The  comparative  friendliness  in- 
duced by  Dalroy 's  prevision  as  a  caterer  van- 
ished at  once.  When  the  train  rolled  wearily 
across  the  Rhine  into  Cologne,  ten  hours  late, 
both  Dalroy  and  the  girl  were  fully  aware  that 
their  fellow-passengers  regarded  them  as  po- 
tential enemies. 

It  was  then  about  six  o  'clock  on  the  Tuesday 
evening,  and  a  loud-voiced  official  announced 
that  the  train  would  not  proceed  to  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  until  eight.  The  German  officers  went 
out,  no  doubt  to  seek  a  meal ;  but  took  the  pre- 
caution of  asking  an  officer  in  charge  of  some 
Bavarian  troops  on  the  platform  to  station  a 
sentry  at  the  carriage  door.  Probably  they  had 
no  other  intent,  and  merely  wished  to  safeguard 
their  places;  but  Dalroy  realised  now  the  im- 
prudence of  talking  English,  and  signed  to  the 


14  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

girl  that  she  was  to  come  with  him  into  the 
corridor  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  carriage. 

There  they  held  counsel.  Miss  Beresford 
was  firmly  resolved  to  reach  Brussels,  and 
flinched  from  no  difficulties.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered that  war  was  not  formally  declared  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  Germany  until  that 
evening.  Indeed,  the  tremendous  decision  was 
made  while  the  pair  so  curiously  allied  by  fate 
were  discussing  their  programme.  Had  they 
even  quitted  the  train  at  Cologne  they  had  a  fair 
prospect  of  reaching  neutral  territory  by  hook 
or  by  crook.  But  they  knew  nothing  of  Liege, 
and  the  imperishable  laurels  which  that  gallant 
city  was  about  to  gather.  They  elected  to  go 
on! 

A  station  employe  brought  them  some  un- 
palatable food,  which  they  made  a  pretence  of 
eating.  Irene  Beresford 's  Hanoverian  German 
was  perfect,  so  Dalroy  did  not  air  his  less 
accurate  accent,  and  the  presence  of  the  sentry 
was  helpful  at  this  crisis.  Though  sharp-eyed 
and  rabbit-eared,  the  man  was  quite  civil. 

At  last  the  Prussian  officers  returned.  He 
who  had  been  chatty  overnight  was  now 
brusque,  even  overbearing.  '  *  You  have  no  right 
here!"  he  vociferated  at  Dalroy.  "Why. 
should  a  damned  Englishman  travel  with  Ger- 
mans? Your  country  is  perfidious  as  ever. 
How  do  I  know  that  you  are  not  a  spy?" 

* '  Spies  are  not  vouched  for  by  Councillors  of 
State,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "I  have  in  my 


THE  LAVA-STREAM  15 

pocket  a  letter  from  his  Excellency  Staatsrath 
von  Auschenbaum  authorising  my  journey,  and 
you  yourself  must  perceive  that  I  am  escorting 
a  lady  to  her  home." 

The  other  snorted,  but  subsided  into  his  seat. 
Not  yet  had  Teutonic  hatred  of  all  things  Brit- 
ish burst  its  barriers.  But  the  pressure  was 
increasing.  Soon  it  would  leap  forth  like  the 
pent-up  flood  of  some  mighty  reservoir  whose 
retaining  wall  had  crumbled  into  ruin. 

1 '  Is  there  any  news  ? ' '  went  on  Dalroy  civilly. 
At  any  hazard,  he  was  determined,  for  the  sake 
of  the  girl,  to  maintain  the  semblance  of  good- 
fellowship.  She,  he  saw,  was  cool  and  collected. 
Evidently,  she  had  complete  trust  in  him. 

For  a  little  while  no  one  answered.  Ulti- 
mately, the  officer  who  regarded  Liege  as  a 
joke  said  shortly,  "Your  Sir  Grey  has  made 
some  impudent  suggestions.  I  suppose  it  is 
what  the  Americans  call  *  bluff';  but  bluffing 
Germany  is  a  dangerous  game. ' ' 

"Newspapers  exaggerate  such  matters,"  said 
Dalroy. 

"It  may  be  so.  Still,  you'll  be  lucky  if  you 
get  beyond  Aachen, ' '  was  the  ungracious  retort. 
The  speaker  refused  to  give  the  town  its  French 
name. 

An  hour  passed,  the  third  in  Cologne,  before 
the  train  rumbled  away  into  the  darkness.  The 
girl  pretended  to  sleep.  Indeed,  she  may  have 
dozed  fitfully.  Dalroy  did  not  attempt  to 
engage  her  in  talk.  The  Germans  gossiped  in 


16 


low  tones.  They  knew  that  their  nation  had 
spied  on  the  whole  world.  Naturally,  they 
held  every  foreigner  in  their  midst  as  tainted  in 
the  same  vile  way. 

From  Cologne  to  Aix-la-Chapelle  is  only  a 
two  hours'  run.  That  night  the  journey  con- 
sumed four.  Dalroy  no  longer  dared  look  out 
when  the  train  stood  in  a  siding.  He  knew  by 
the  sounds  that  all  the  dread  paraphernalia  of 
war  was  speeding  toward  the  frontier ;  but  any 
display  of  interest  on  his 'part  would  be  posi- 
tively dangerous  now;  so  he,  too,  closed  his 
eyes. 

By  this  time  he  was  well  aware  that  his  real 
trials  would  begin  at  Aix;  but  he  had  the  phi- 
losopher's temperament,  and  never  leaped 
fences  till  he  reached  them. 

At  one  in  the  morning  they  entered  the  sta- 
tion of  the  last  important  town  in  Germany. 
Holland  lay  barely  three  miles  away,  Belgium  a 
little  farther.  The  goal  was  near.  Dalroy  felt 
that  by  calmness  and  quiet  determination  he 
and  his  charming  protege  might  win  through. 
He  was  very  much  taken  by  Irene  Beresford. 
He  had  never  met  any  girl  who  attacted  him  so 
strongly.  He  found  himself  wondering  whether 
he  might  contrive  to  cultivate  this  strangely 
formed  friendship  when  they  reached  England. 
In  a  word,  the  self-denying  ordinance  popularly 
attributed  to  Lord  Kitchener  was  weakening  in 
Captain  Arthur  Dalroy. 

Then  his  sky  dropped,  dropped  with  a  bang. 


THE  LAVA-STREAM  17 

The  train  had  not  quite  halted  when  the  door 
was  torn  open,  and  a  bespectacled,  red-faced 
officer  glared  in. 

"It  is  reported  from  Cologne  that  there  are 
English  in  this  carriage,"  he  shouted. 

* '  Correct,  my  friend.  There  they  are ! ' '  said 
the  man  who  had  snarled  at  Dalroy  earlier. 

"You  must  descend,"  commanded  the  new- 
comer. '  *  You  are  both  under  arrest. ' ' 

* '  On  what  charge  f ' '  inquired  Dalroy,  bitterly 
conscious  of  a  gasp  of  terror  which  came  in- 
voluntarily from  the  girl's  lips. 

"You  are  spies.  A  sentry  heard  you  talking 
English,  and  saw  you  examining  troop-trains 
from  the  carriage  window. ' ' 

So  that  Bavarian  lout  had  listened  to  the 
Prussian  officer's  taunt,  and  made  a  story  of  his 
discovery  to  prove  his  diligence. 

"We  are  not  spies,  nor  have  we  done  any- 
thing to  warrant  suspicion,"  said  Dalroy 
quietly.  ' '  I  have  letters ' ' 

"No  talk.  Out  you  come!"  and  he  was 
dragged  forth  by  a  bloated  fellow  whom  he 
could  have  broken  with  his  hands.  It  was  folly 
to  resist,  so  he  merely  contrived  to  keep  on  his 
feet,  whereas  the  fat  bully  meant  to  trip  him 
ignominiously  on  to  the  platform. 

*  *  Now  you ! '  *  was  the  order  to  Irene,  and  she 
followed.  Half-a-dozen  soldiers  closed  around. 
There  could  be  no  doubting  that  preparations 
had  been  made  for  their  reception. 

4 '  May  I  have  my  portmanteau  ? ' '  said  Dalroy. 


18  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"  You  are  acting  in  error,  as  I  shall  prove  when 
given  an  opportunity. ' ' 

"Shut  your  mouth,  you  damned  English- 
man"— that  was  a  favourite  phrase  on  German 
lips  apparently — "would  you  dare  to  argue 
with  me  1 — Here,  one  of  you,  take  his  bag.  Has 
the  woman  any  baggage?  No.  Then  march 
them  to  the " 

A  tall  young  lieutenant,  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Prussian  Imperial  Guard,  dashed  up  breath- 
lessly. 

"Ah,  I  was  told  the  train  had  arrived!'*  he 
cried.  "Yes,  I  am  in  search  of  those  two " 

"Thank  goodness  you  are  here,  Von  Hal- 
wig  ! ' '  began  Dalroy. 

The  Guardsman  turned  on  him  a  face  aflame 
with  fury.  ' '  Silence ! "  he  bellowed.  "  I  '11  soon 
settle  your  affair. — Take  his  papers  and  money, 
and  put  him  in  a  waiting-room  till  I  return," 
he  added,  speaking  to  the  officer  of  reserves 
who  had  affected  the  arrest.  "Place  the  lady  in 
another  waiting-room,  and  lock  her  in.  I'll  see 
that  she  is  not  molested.  As  for  this  English 
schwein-hund,  shoot  him  at  the  least  sign  of 
resistance." 

"But,  Herr  Lieutenant,"  began  the  other, 
whose  heavy  paunch  was  a  measure  of  his  self- 
importance,  "I  have  orders " 

" Ach,  was!  I  know!  This  Englishman  is 
not  an  ordinary  spy.  He  is  a  cavalry  captain, 
and  speaks  our  language  fluently.  Do  as  I  tell 
you.  I  shall  come  back  in  half-an-hour. — 


THE  LAVA-STREAM  19 

Fraulein,  you  are  in  safer  hands.  You,  I  fancy, 
will  be  well  treated. ' ' 

Dalroy  said  not  a  word.  He  saw  at  once  that 
some  virus  had  changed  Von  Halwig 's  urbanity 
to  bitter  hatred.  He  was  sure  the  Guardsman 
had  been  drinking,  but  that  fact  alone  would 
not  account  for  such  an  amazing  volte-face. 
Could  it  be  that  Britain  had  thrown  in  her  lot 
with  France?  In  his  heart  of  hearts  he  hoped 
passionately  that  the  rumour  was  true.  And  he 
blazed,  too,  into  a  fierce  if  silent  resentment  of 
the  Prussian's  satyr-like  smile  at  Irene  Beres- 
ford.  But  what  could  he  do!  Protest  was 
worse  than  useless.  He  felt  that  he  would  be 
shot  or  bayoneted  on  the  slightest  pretext. 

Von  Halwig  evidently  resented  the  presence 
of  a  crowd  of  gaping  onlookers. 

"No  more  talk!"  he  ordered  sharply.  "Do 
as  I  bid  you,  Herr  Lieutenant  of  Reserves  I" 

"Captain  Dalroy!"  cried  the  girl  in  a  voice 
of  utter  dismay,  * '  don 't  let  them  part  us ! " 

Von  Halwig  pointed  to  a  door.  "In  there 
with  him ! "  he  growled,  and  Dalroy  was  hustled 
away.  Irene  screamed,  and  tried  to  avoid  the 
Prussian's  outstretched  hand.  He  grasped  her 
determinedly. 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  he  hissed  in  English.  "/ 
can  save  you.  He  is  done  with.  A  firing-party 
or  a  rope  will  account  for  him  at  daybreak. 
Ah!  calm  yourself,  gnadiges  Fraulein.  There 
are  consolations,  even  in  war." 

Dalroy  contrived,  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye, 


20  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

to  see  that  the  distraught  girl  was  led  toward 
a  ladies'  waiting-room,  two  doors  from  the 
apartment  into  which  he  was  thrust.  There 
he  was  searched  by  the  lieutenant  of  reserves, 
not  skilfully,  because  the  man  missed  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  money,  which  he  carried  in  a 
pocket  in  the  lining  of  his  waistcoat.  All  else 
was  taken — tickets,  papers,  loose  cash,  even  a 
cigarette-case  and  favourite  pipe. 

The  instructions  to  the  sentry  were  emphatic : 
"Don't  close  the  door!  Admit  no  one  without 
sending  for  me !  Shoot  or  stab  the  prisoner  if 
he  moves ! ' ' 

And  the  fat  man  bustled  away.  The  station 
was  swarming  with  military  big-wigs.  He  must 
remain  in  evidence. 

During  five  long  minutes  Dalroy  reviewed  the 
situation.  Probably  he  would  be  executed  as 
a  spy.  At  best,  he  could  not  avoid  internment 
in  a  fortress  till  the  end  of  the  war.  He  pre- 
ferred to  die  in  a  struggle  for  life  and  liberty. 
Men  had  escaped  in  conditions  quite  as  des- 
perate. Why  not  he?  The  surge  of  impotent 
anger  subsided  in  his  veins,  and  he  took 
thought. 

Outside  the  open  door  stood  the  sentry,  hold- 
ing his  rifle,  with  fixed  bayonet,  in  the  attitude 
of  a  sportsman  who  expects  a  covey  of  par- 
tridges to  rise  from  the  stubble.  A  window  of 
plain  glass  gave  on  to  the  platform.  Seem- 
ingly, it  had  not  been  opened  since  the  station 
was  built.  Three  windows  of  frosted  glass  in 


THE  LAVA-STREAM  21 

the  opposite  wall  were,  to  all  appearance,  prac- 
ticable. Judging  by  the  sounds,  the  station 
square  lay  without.  Was  there  a  lock  and  key 
on  the  door!  Or  a  bolt?  He  could  not  tell  from 
his  present  position.  The  sentry  had  orders  to 
kill  him  if  he  moved.  Perhaps  the  man  would 
not  interpret  the  command  literally.  At  any 
rate,  that  was  a  risk  he  must  take.  With  head 
sunk,  and  hands  behind  his  back,  obviously  in  a 
state  of  deep  dejection,  he  began  to  stroll  to 
and  fro.  Well,  he  had  a  fighting  chance.  He 
was  not  shot  forthwith. 

A  slight  commotion  on  the  platform  caught 
his  eye,  the  sentry's  as  well.  A  tall  young 
officer,  wearing  a  silver  helmet,  and  accom- 
panied by  a  glittering  staff,  clanked  past ;  with 
him  the  lieutenant  of  reserves,  gesticulating. 
Dalroy  recognised  one  of  the  Emperor's  sons; 
but  the  sentry  had  probably  never  seen  the 
princeling  before,  and  was  agape.  And  there 
was  not  only  a  key  but  a  bolt ! 

With  three  noiseless  strides,  Dalroy  was  at 
the  door  and  had  slammed  it.  The  key  turned 
easily,  and  the  bolt  shot  home.  Then  he  raced 
to  the  middle  window,  unfastened  the  hasp,  and 
raised  the  lower  sash.  He  counted  on  the  thick- 
headed sentry  wasting  some  precious  seconds 
in  trying  to  force  the  door,  and  he  was  right. 
As  it  happened,  before  the  man  thought  of 
looking  in  through  the  platform  window  Dalroy 
had  not  only  lowered  the  other  window  behind 
him  but  dropped  from  the  sill  to  the  pavement 


22  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

between  the  wall  and  a  covered  van  which  stood 
there. 

Now  he  was  free — free  as  any  Briton  could 
be  deemed  free  in  Aix-la-Chapelle  at  that 
hour,  one  man  among  three  army  corps,  an 
unarmed  Englishman  among  a  bitterly  hostile 
population  which  recked  naught  of  France  or 
Belgium  or  Russia,  but  hated  England  already 
with  an  almost  maniacal  malevolence. 

And  Irene  Beresford,  that  sweet-voiced, 
sweet-faced  English  girl,  was  a  prisoner  at  the 
mercy  of  a  "big  blonde  brute,"  a  half -drunken, 
wholly  enraged  Prussian  Junker.  The  thought 
rankled  and  stung.  It  was  not  to  be  borne. 
For  the  first  time  that  night  Dalroy  knew  what 
fear  was,  and  in  a  girPs  behalf,  not  in  his  own. 

Could  he  save  her?  Heaven  had  befriended 
him  thus  far;  would  a  kindly  Providence  clear 
his  brain  and  nerve  his  spirit  to  achieve  an 
almost  impossible  rescue? 

The  prayer  was  formless  and  unspoken,  yet 
it  was  answered.  He  had  barely  gathered  his 
wits  after  that  long  drop  of  nearly  twelve  feet 
into  the  station  yard  before  he  was  given  a 
vague  glimpse  of  a  means  of  delivering  the  girl 
from  her  immediate  peril. 


CHAPTER  II 

IN   THE   VOETEX 

THE  van,  one  among  a  score  of  similar  vehi- 
cles, was  backed  against  the  curb  of  a  raised 
path.  At  the  instant  Dalroy  quitted  the 
window-ledge  a  railway  employe  appeared  from 
behind  another  van  on  the  left,  and  was  clearly 
bewildered  by  seeing  a  well-dressed  man  spring- 
ing from  such  an  unusual  and  precarious  perch. 

The  new-comer,  a  big,  burly  fellow,  who  wore 
a  peaked  and  lettered  cap,  a  blouse,  baggy 
breeches,  and  sabots,  and  carried  a  lighted  hand- 
lamp,  looked  what,  in  fact,  he  was — an  engine- 
cleaner.  In  all  likelihood  he  guessed  that  any 
one  choosing  such  a  curious  exit  from  a  waiting- 
room  was  avoiding  official  scrutiny.  He  hurried 
forward  at  once,  holding  the  lamp  above  his 
head,  because  it  was  dark  behind  the  row  of 
vans. 

"Hi,  there!"  he  cried.  "A  word  with  you, 
Freiherr!"  The  title,  of  course,  was  a  bit  of 
German  humour.  Obviously,  he  was  bent  on 
investigating  matters.  Dalroy  did  not  run.  In 
the  street  without  he  heard  the  tramp  of 
marching  troops,  the  jolting  of  wagons,  the 
clatter  of  horses.  He  knew  that  a  hue  and 
cry  could  have  only  one  result — he  would  be 
pulled  down  by  a  score  of  hands.  Moreover, 

23 


24  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

with  the  sight  of  that  suspicious  Teuton  face, 
its  customary  boorish  leer  now  replaced  by  a 
surly  inquisitiveness,  came  the  first  glimmer 
of  a  fantastically  daring  way  of  rescuing  Irene 
Beresford. 

He  advanced,  smiling  pleasantly.  "It's  all 
right,  Heinrich,"  he  said.  "I've  arrived  by 
train  from  Berlin,  and  the  station  was  crowded. 
Being  an  acrobat,  I  took  a  bounce.  What?" 

The  engine-cleaner  was  not  a  quick-witted 
person.  He  scowled,  but  allowed  Dalroy  to 
come  near — too  near. 

"I  believe  you're  a  verdammt  Engl "  he 

began. 

But  the  popular  German  description  of  a 
Briton  died  on  his  lips,  because  Dalroy  put 
a  good  deal  of  science  and  no  small  leaven  of 
brute  force  into  a  straight  punch  which  reached 
that  cluster  of  nerves  known  to  pugilism  as 
4 '  the  point. ' '  The  German  fell  as  though  he  had 
been  pole-axed,  and  his  thick  skull  rattled  on 
the  pavement. 

Dalroy  grabbed  the  lamp  before  the  oil  could 
gush  out,  placed  it  upright  on  the  ground,  and 
divested  the  man  of  blouse,  baggy  breeches,  and 
sabots.  Luckily,  since  every  second  was  pre- 
cious, he  found  that  he  was  able  to  wedge  his 
boots  into  the  sabots,  which  he  could  not  have 
kept  on  his  feet  otherwise.  His  training  as  a 
soldier  had  taught  him  the  exceeding  value  of 
our  Fifth  Henry's  advice  to  the  British  army 
gathered  before  Harfleur : 


IN  THE  VORTEX  25 

In  peace  there's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 
As  modest  stillness  and  humility ; 
But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears 
Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger. 

The  warring  tiger  does  not  move  slowly. 
Half-a-minute  after  his  would-be  captor  had 
crashed  headlong  to  the  hard  cobbles  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  Dalroy  was  creeping  between  two 
wagons,  completing  a  hasty  toilet  by  tearing 
off  collar  and  tie,  and  smearing  his  face  and 
hands  with  oil  and  grease  from  lamp  and  cap. 
Even  as  he  went  he  heard  a  window  of  the 
waiting-room  being  flung  open,  and  the  excited 
cries  which  announced  the  discovery  of  a  half- 
naked  body  lying  beneath  in  the  gloom. 

He  saw  now  that  to  every  van  was  harnessed 
a  pair  of  horses,  their  heads  deep  in  nose-bags, 
while  men  in  the  uniform  of  the  Commis- 
sariat Corps  were  grouped  around  an  officer 
who  was  reading  orders.  The  vans  were 
sheeted  in  black  tarpaulins.  With  German  at- 
tention to  detail,  their  destination,  contents,  and 
particular  allotment  were  stencilled  on  the  cov- 
ers in  white  paint :  *  *  Liege,  baggage  and  fodder, 
cavalry  division,  7th  Army  Corps."  He 
learnt  subsequently  that  this  definite  legend  ap- 
peared on  front  and  rear  and  on  both  sides. 

Thinking  quickly,  he  decided  that  the  burly 
person  whose  outer  garments  he  was  now  wear- 
ing had  probably  been  taking  a  short  cut  to 
the  station  entrance  when  he  received  the  sur- 
prise of  his  life.  Somewhat  higher  up  on  the 


26  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

right,  therefore,  Dalroy  went  baok  to  the  nar- 
row pavement  close  to  the  wall,  and  saw  some 
soldiers  coming  through  a  doorway  a  little 
ahead.  He  made  for  this,  growled  a  husky 
"Good-morning  "  to  a  sentry  stationed  there, 
entered,  and  mounted  a  staircase.  Soon  he 
found  himself  on  the  main  platform ;  he  actually 
passed  a  sergeant  and  some  Bavarian  soldiers, 
bent  on  recapturing  the  escaped  prisoner,  rush- 
ing wildly  for  the  same  stairs. 

None  paid  heed  to  him  as  he  lumbered  along, 
swinging  the  lamp. 

A  small  crowd  of  officers,  among  them  the 
youthful  prince  in  the  silver  Pickel-haube,  had 
collected  near  the  broken  window  and  now  open 
door  of  the  waiting-room  from  which  the  "spy" 
had  vanished.  Within  was  the  fat  lieutenant 
of  reserves,  gesticulating  violently  at  a  pallid 
sentry. 

The  prince  was  laughing.  "He  can't  get 
away,"  he  was  saying.  "A  bold  rascal.  He 
must  be  quieted  with  a  bayonet-thrust.  That's 
the  best  way  to  inoculate  an  Englishman  with 
German  Kultur." 

Of  course  this  stroke  of  rare  wit  evoked 
much  mirth.  Meanwhile,  Dalroy  was  turning 
the  key  in  the  lock  which  held  Irene  Beresf ord 
in  safe  keeping  until  Von  Halwig  had  dis- 
charged certain  pressing  duties  as  a  staff 
officer. 

The  girl,  who  was  seated,  gave  him  a  terrified 
glance  when  he  entered,  but  dropped  her  eyes 


IN  THE  VORTEX  27 

immediately  until  she  became  aware  that  this 
rough-looking  visitor  was  altering  the  key. 
Dalroy  then  realised  by  her  startled  movement 
that  his  appearance  had  brought  fresh  terror  to 
an  already  overburthened  heart.  Hitherto,  so 
absorbed  was  he  in  his  project,  he  had  not 
given  a  thought  to  the  fact  that  he  would  offer 
a  sinister  apparition. 

"Don't  scream,  or  change  your  position,  Miss 
Beresford,"  he  said  quietly  in  English.  "It  is 
I,  Captain  Dalroy.  We  have  a  chance  of  es- 
cape. Will  you  take  the  risk?" 

The  answer  came,  brokenly  it  is  true,  but 
with  the  girl's  very  soul  in  the  words.  "Thank 
God!"  she  murmured.  "Bisk?  I  would  sacri- 
fice ten  lives,  if  I  had  them,  rather  than  remain 
here." 

Somehow,  that  was  the  sort  of  answer  Dal- 
roy expected  from  her.  She  sought  no  ex- 
planation of  his  bizarre  and  extraordinary 
garb.  It  was  all-sufficient  for  her  that  he  should 
have  come  back.  She  trusted  him  implicitly, 
and  the  low,  earnest  words  thrilled  him  to  the 
core. 

He  saw  through  the  window  that  no  one  was 
paying  any  attention  to  this  apartment.  Pos- 
sibly, the  only  people  who  knew  that  it  con- 
tained an  Englishwoman  as  a  prisoner  were 
Von  Halwig  and  the  infuriated  lieutenant  of 
reserves. 

Jumping  on  to  a  chair,  Dalroy  promptly 
twisted  an  electric  bulb  out  of  its  socket,  and 


28  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

plunged  the  room  in  semi-darkness,  which  he 
increased  by  hiding  the  hand-lamp  in  the  folds 
of  his  blouse.  Given  time,  no  doubt,  a  dim 
light  would  be  borrowed  from  the  platform  and 
the  windows  overlooking  the  square;  in  the 
sudden  gloom,  however,  the  two  could  hardly 
distinguish  each  other. 

"I  have  contrived  to  escape,  in  a  sense,"  said 
Dalroy;  "but  I  could  not  bear  the  notion  of 
leaving  you  to  your  fate.  You  can  either  stop 
here  and  take  your  chance,  or  come  with  me. 
If  we  are  caught  together  a  second  time  these 
brutes  will  show  you  no  mercy.  On  the  other 
hand,  by  remaining,  you  may  be  fairly  well 
treated,  and  even  sent  home  soon." 

He  deemed  himself  in  honour  bound  to  put 
what  seemed  then  a  reasonable  alternative  be- 
fore her.  He  did  truly  believe,  in  that  hour, 
that  Germany  might,  indeed,  wage  war  inflexi- 
bly, but  with  clean  hands,  as  befitted  a  nation 
which  prided  itself  on  its  ideals  and  warrior 
spirit.  He  was  destined  soon  to  be  enlightened 
as  to  the  true  significance  of  the  Kultur  which 
a  jack-boot  philosophy  offers  to  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

But  Irene  Beresford's  womanly  intuition  did 
not  err.  One  baleful  gleam  from  Von  Halwig's 
eyes  had  given  her  a  glimpse  of  infernal  depths 
to  which  Dalroy  was  blind  as  yet.  "Not  only 
will  I  come  with  you ;  but,  if  you  have  a  pistol 
or  a  knife,  I  implore  you  to  kill  me  before  I  am 
captured  again,"  she  said. 


IN  THE  VORTEX  29 

Here,  then,  was  no  waste  of  words,  but 
rather  the  ring  of  finely-tempered  steel.  Dal- 
roy  unlocked  the  door,  and  looked  out.  To  the 
right  and  in  front  the  platform  was  nearly 
empty.  On  the  left  the  group  of  officers  was 
crowding  into  the  waiting-room,  since  some  hint 
of  unfathomable  mystery  had  been  wafted  up 
from  the  Bavarians  in  the  courtyard,  and  the 
slim  young  prince,  curious  as  a  street  lounger, 
had  gone  to  the  window  to  investigate. 

Dalroy  stood  in  the  doorway.  "Pull  down 
your  veil,  turn  to  the  right,  and  keep  close  to 
the  wall,"  he  said.  "Don't  run!  Don't  even 
hurry!  If  I  seem  to  lag  behind,  speak  sharply 
to  me  in  German." 

She  obeyed  without  hesitation.  They  had 
reached  the  end  of  the  covered-in  portion  of  the 
station  when  a  sentry  barred  the  way.  He 
brought  his  rifle  with  fixed  bayonet  to  the 
"engage." 

"It  is  forbidden,"  he  said. 

"What  is  forbidden?"  grinned  Dalroy  amia- 
bly, clipping  his  syllables,  and  speaking  in  the 
roughest  voice  he  could  assume. 

"You  cannot  pass  this  way." 

"Good!  Then  I  can  go  home  to  bed.  That 
will  be  better  than  cleaning  engines." 

Fortunately,  a  Bavarian  regiment  was  de- 
tailed for  duty  at  Aix-la-Chapelle  that  night; 
the  sentry  knew  where  the  engine-sheds  were 
situated  no  more  than  Dalroy.  Further,  he  was 
not  familiar  with  the  Aachen  accent. 


30  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes.    Look  at  my  cap !" 

Dalroy  held  up  the  lantern.  The  official  let- 
tering was  evidently  convincing. 

"But  what  about  the  lady?" 

"She's  my  wife.  If  you're  here  in  half-an- 
hour  she'll  bring  you  some  coffee.  One  doesn't 
leave  a  young  wife  at  home  with  so  many 
soldiers  about." 

"If  you  both  stand  chattering  here  neither 
of  you  will  get  any  coffee,"  put  in  Irene  em- 
phatically. 

The  Bavarian  lowered  his  rifle.  "I'm  re- 
lieved at  two  o'clock,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 
"Lose  no  time,  schcene  Frau.  There  won't  be 
much  coffee  on  the  road  to  Liege." 

The  girl  passed  on,  but  Dalroy  lingered.  "Is 
that  where  you're  going?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.    We're  due  in  Paris  in  three  weeks." 

"Lucky  dog!" 

"Hans,  are  you  coming,  or  shall  I  go  on 
alone?"  demanded  Irene. 

"Farewell,  comrade,  for  a  little  ten  min- 
utes," growled  Dalroy,  and  he  followed. 

An  empty  train  stood  in  a  bay  on  the  right, 
and  Dalroy  espied  a  window-cleaner's  ladder 
in  a  corner.  "Where  are  you  going,  woman?" 
he  cried. 

His  "wife"  was  walking  down  the  main  plat- 
form which  ended  against  the  wall  of  a  signal- 
cabin,  and  there  might  be  insuperable  difficul- 
ties in  that  direction. 


IN  THE  VORTEX  31 

"Isn't  this  the  easiest  way?"  she  snapped. 

"Yes,  if  you  want  to  get  run  over." 

Without  waiting  for  her,  he  turned,  shoul- 
dered the  ladder,  and  made  for  a  platform  on 
the  inner  side  of  the  bay.  A  ten-foot  wall  indi- 
cated the  station's  boundary.  Irene  ran  after 
him.  Within  a  few  yards  they  were  hidden  by 
the  train  from  the  sentry's  sight. 

"That  was  clever  of  you!"  she  whispered 
breathlessly. 

1 '  Speak  German,  even  when  you  think  we  are 
alone, ' '  he  commanded. 

The  platform  curved  sharply,  and  the  train 
was  a  long  one.  When  they  neared  the  engine 
they  saw  three  men  standing  there.  Dalroy  at 
once  wrapped  the  lamp  in  a  fold  of  his  blouse, 
and  leaped  into  the  black  shadow  cast  by  the 
wall,  which  lay  athwart  the  flood  of  moonlight 
pouring  into  the  open  part  of  the  station. 
Quick  to  take  the  cue,  it  being  suicidal  to  think 
of  bamboozling  local  railway  officials,  Irene 
followed.  Kicking  off  the  clumsy  sabots,  Dal- 
roy bade  his  companion  pick  them  up,  ran  back 
some  thirty  yards,  and  placed  the  ladder 
against  the  wall.  Mounting  swiftly,  he  found, 
to  his  great  relief,  that  some  sheds  with  low- 
pitched  roofs  were  ranged  beneath;  otherwise, 
the  height  of  the  wall,  if  added  to  the  elevation 
of  the  station  generally  above  the  external 
ground  level,  might  well  have  proved  disas- 
trous. 

"Up  you  come,"  he  said,  seating  himself 


32  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

astride  the  coping-stones,  and  holding  the  top 
of  the  ladder. 

Irene  was  soon  perched  there  too.  He  pulled 
up  the  ladder,  and  lowered  it  to  a  roof. 

"Now,  you  grab  hard  in  case  it  slips,"  he 
said. 

Disdaining  the  rungs,  he  slid  down.  He  had 
hardly  gathered  his  poise  before  the  girl  tum- 
bled into  his  arms,  one  of  the  heavy  wooden 
shoes  she  was  carrying  giving  him  a  smart  tap 
on  the  head. 

"These  men!"  she  gasped.  "They  saw  me, 
and  shouted." 

Dalroy  imagined  that  the  trio  near  the  engine 
must  have  noted  the  swinging  lantern  and  its 
sudden  disappearance.  With  the  instant  de- 
cision born  of  polo  and  pig-sticking  in  India,  he 
elected  now  not  to  essay  the  slanting  roof  just 
where  they  stood.  Shouldering  the  ladder 
again,  he  made  off  toward  a  strip  of  shadow 
which  seemed  to  indicate  the  end  of  a  some- 
what higher  shed.  He  was  right.  Irene  fol- 
lowed, and  they  crouched  there  in  panting 
silence. 

Nearly  every  German  is  a  gymnast,  and  it 
was  no  surprise  to  Dalroy  when  one  of  their 
pursuers  mounted  on  the  shoulders  of  a  friend 
and  gained  the  top  of  the  wall. 

"There's  nothing  to  be  seen  here,"  he  an- 
nounced after  a  brief  survey. 

The  pair  beneath  must  have  answered,  be- 
cause he  went  on,  evidently  in  reply,  "Oh,  I 


IN  THE  VORTEX  33 

saw  it  myself.  And  I'm  sure  there  was  some 
one  up  here.  There 's  a  sentry  on  No.  5.  Run, 
Fritz,  and  ask  him  if  a  man  with  a  lantern  has 
passed  recently.  I'll  mount  guard  till  you  re- 
turn. ' ' 

Happily  a  train  approached,  and,  in  the  re- 
sultant din  Dalroy  was  enabled  to  scramble 
down  the  roof  unheard. 

The  ladder  just  reached  the  ground;  so,  be- 
fore Fritz  and  the  sentry  began  to  suspect  that 
some  trickery  was  afoot  in  that  part  of  the  sta- 
tion, the  two  fugitives  were  speeding  through 
a  dark  lane  hemmed  in  by  warehouses.  At  the 
first  opportunity,  Dalroy  extinguished  the  lan- 
tern. Then  he  bethought  him  of  his  compan- 
ion's appearance.  He  halted  suddenly  ere  they 
entered  a  lighted  thoroughfare. 

"I  had  better  put  on  these  clogs  again,"  he 
said.  "But  what  about  you?  It  will  never  do 
for  a  lady  in  smart  attire  to  be  seen  walking 
through  the  streets  with  a  ruffian  like  me  at 
one  o  'clock  in  the  morning. ' ' 

For  answer,  the  girl  took  off  her  hat  and  tore 
away  a  cluster  of  roses  and  a  coquettish  bow  of 
ribbon.  Then  she  discarded  her  jacket,  which 
she  adjusted  loosely  across  her  shoulders. 

1  *  Now  I  ought  to  look  raffish  enough  for  any- 
thing," she  said  cheerfully. 

Singularly  enough,  her  confidence  raised 
again  in  Dalroy 's  mind  a  lurking  doubt  which 
the  success  thus  far  achieved  had  not  wholly 
stilled. 


34  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"My  candid  advice  to  you  now,  Miss  Beres- 
ford,  is  that  you  leave  me,"  he  said.  "You  will 
come  to  no  harm  in  the  main  streets,  and  you 
speak  German  so  well  that  you  should  have 
little  difficulty  in  reaching  the  Dutch  frontier. 
Once  in  Holland  you  can  travel  to  Brussels  by 
way  of  Antwerp.  I  believe  England  has  de- 
clared war  against  Germany.  The  behaviour 
of  Von  Halwig  and  those  other  Prussians  is 
most  convincing  on  that  point.  If  so " 

"Does  my  presence  imperil  you,  Captain 
Dalroy?"  she  broke  in.  She  could  have  said 
nothing  more  unwise,  nothing  so  subtly  calcu- 
lated to  stir  a  man's  pride. 

"No,"  he  answered  shortly. 

"Why,  then,  are  you  so  anxious  to  get  rid  of 
me,  after  risking  your  life  to  save  me  a  few 
minutes  ago?" 

"I  am  going  straight  into  Belgium.  I  deem 
it  my  duty.  I  may  pick  up  information  of  the 
utmost  military  value." 

"Then  I  go  into  Belgium  too,  unless  you 
positively  refuse  to  be  bothered  with  my  com- 
pany. I  simply  must  reach  my  sister  without 
a  moment  of  unnecessary  delay.  And  is  it 
really  sensible  to  stand  here  arguing,  so  close 
to  the  station?" 

They  went  on  without  another  word.  Dalroy 
was  ruffled  by  the  suggestion  that  he  might  be 
seeking  his  own  safety.  Trust  any  woman  to 
find  the  joint  in  any  man's  armour  when  it 
suits  her  purpose. 


IN  THE  VORTEX  35 

Aix-la-Chapelle  was  more  awake  on  that 
Wednesday  morning  at  one  o  'clock  than  on  any 
ordinary  day  at  the  same  hour  in  the  afternoon. 
The  streets  were  alive  with  excited  people,  the 
taverns  and  smaller  shops  open,  the  main 
avenues  crammed  with  torrents  of  troops 
streaming  westward.  Regimental  bands  struck 
up  martial  airs  as  column  after  column  de- 
bouched from  the  various  stations.  When  the 
musicians  paused  for  sheer  lack  of  breath  the 
soldiers  bawled  "  Deutschland,  Deutschland, 
uber  alles"  or  "Die  Wacht  am  Rhine"  at  the 
top  of  their  voices.  The  uproar  was,  as  the 
Germans  love  to  say,  colossal.  The  enthusiasm 
was  colossal  too.  Aix-la-Chapelle  might  have 
been  celebrating  a  great  national  festival.  It 
seemed  ludicrous  to  regard  the  community  as 
in  the  throes  of  war.  The  populace,  the  officers, 
even  the  heavy-jowled  peasants  who  formed  the 
majority  of  the  regiments  then  hurrying  to  the 
front,  seemed  to  be  intoxicated  with  joy.  Dal- 
roy  was  surprised  at  first.  He  was  not  pre- 
pared for  the  savage  exultation  with  which 
German  militarism  leaped  to  its  long-dreamed- 
of  task  of  conquering  Europe. 

Irene  Beresford,  momentarily  more  alive 
than  he  to  the  exigencies  of  their  position, 
bought  a  common  shawl  at  a  shop  in  a 
side  street,  and  threw  away  her  tattered  hat 
with  a  careless  laugh.  She  was  an  excellent 
actress.  The  woman  who  served  her  had 
not  the  remotest  notion  that  this  bright- 


36  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

eyed  girl  belonged  to  the  hated  English  race. 

The  incident  brought  back  Dalroy's  vagrom 
thoughts  from  German  methods  of  making  war 
to  the  serious  business  which  was  his  own  par- 
ticular concern.  The  shop  was  only  a  couple 
of  doors  removed  from  the  Franz  Strasse;  he 
waited  for  Irene  at  the  corner,  buying  some 
cheap  cigars  and  a  box  of  matches  at  a  tobac- 
conist's kiosk.  He  still  retained  the  lantern, 
which  lent  a  touch  of  character.  The  carriage- 
cleaner's  breeches  were  wide  and  loose  at  the 
ankles,  and  concealed  his  boots.  Between  the 
sabots  and  his  own  heels  he  had  added  some 
inches  to  his  height,  so  he  could  look  easily  over 
the  heads  of  the  crowd;  he  was  watching  the 
passing  of  a  battery  of  artillery  when  an  open 
automobile  was  jerked  to  a  standstill  directly 
in  front  of  him.  In  the  car  was  seated  Von 
Halwig. 

That  sprig  of  Prussian  nobility  was  in  a 
mighty  hurry,  but  even  he  dared  not  interfere 
too  actively  with  troops  in  motion,  so,  to  pass 
the  time  as  it  were,  he  rolled  his  eyes  in  anger 
at  the  crowd  on  the  pavement. 

It  was  just  possible  that  Irene  might  appear 
inopportunely,  so  Dalroy  rejoined  her,  and  led 
her  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  cross  street, 
where  a  wagon  and  horses  hid  her  from  the 
Guardsman's  sharp  eyes. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Chance  again  took  the 
wanderers  under  her  wing. 

A  short,  thick-set  Walloon  had  emptied  a 


IN  THE  VORTEX  37 

glass  of  schnapps  at  the  counter  of  a  small 
drinking-bar  which  opened  on  to  the  street,  and 
was  bidding  the  landlady  farewell. 

"I  must  be  off,"  he  said.  "I  have  to  be  in 
Vise  by  daybreak.  This  cursed  war  has  kept 
me  here  a  whole  day.  Who  is  fighting  who, 
I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Vise!"  guffawed  a  man  seated  at  the  bar. 
"You'll  never  get  there.  The  army  won't  let 
you  pass." 

"That's  the  army's  affair,  not  mine,"  was 
the  typically  Flemish  answer,  and  the  other 
came  out,  mounted  the  wagon,  chirped  to  his 
horses,  and  made  away. 

Dalroy  was  able  to  note  the  name  on  a  small 
board  affixed  to  the  side  of  the  vehicle :  *  *  Henri 
Joos,  miller,  Vise." 

1 1  That  fellow  lives  in  Belgium, ' '  he  whispered 
to  Irene,  who  had  draped  the  shawl  over  her 
head  and  neck,  and  now  carried  the  jacket  rolled 
into  a  bundle.  "He  is  just  the  sort  of  dogged 
countryman  who  will  tackle  and  overcome  all 
obstacles.  I  fancy  he  is  carrying  oats  to  a  mill, 
and  will  be  known  to  the  frontier  officials.  Shall 
we  bargain  with  him  for  a  lift  I ' ' 

"It  sounds  the  very  thing,"  agreed  the  girl. 

In  their  eagerness,  neither  took  the  precau- 
tion of  buying  something  to  eat.  They  over- 
took the  wagon  before  it  passed  the  market. 
The  driver  was  not  Joos,  but  Joos's  man.  He 
was  quite  ready  to  earn  a  few  francs,  or  marks 
( — he  did  not  care  which — by  conveying  a  couple 


38  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

of  passengers  to  the  placid  little  town  of  whose 
mere  existence  the  wide  world  outside  Bel- 
gium was  unaware  until  that  awful  first  week 
in  August  1914. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Dalroy  and  his 
protege  passed  out  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  without 
let  or  hindrance,  because  the  driver,  spurred 
to  an  effort  of  the  imagination  by  promise  of 
largesse,  described  Irene  to  the  Customs  men 
as  Henri  Joos's  niece,  and  Dalroy  as  one  dep- 
uted by  the  railway  to  see  that  a  belated  con- 
signment of  oats  was  duly  delivered  to  the 
miller. 

Neither  rural  Germany  nor  rural  Belgium 
was  yet  really  at  war.  The  monstrous  shadow 
had  darkened  the  chancelleries,  but  it  was 
hardly  perceptible  to  the  common  people. 
Moreover,  how  could  red-fanged  war  affect  a 
remote  place  like  Vise?  The  notion  was  non- 
sensical. Even  Dalroy  allowed  himself  to  as- 
sure his  companion  that  there  was  now  a  rea- 
sonable prospect  of  reaching  Belgian  soil  with- 
out incurring  real  danger.  Yet,  in  truth,  he 
was  taking  her  to  an  inferno  of  which  the  like 
is  scarce  known  to  history.  The  gate  which 
opened  at  the  Customs  barrier  gave  access  ap- 
parently to  a  good  road  leading  through  an 
undulating  country.  In  sober  truth,  it  led  to 
an  earthly  hell. 


CHAPTER  HI 

FIRST   BLOOD 

THOUGH  none  of  the  three  in  the  wagon 
might  even  hazard  a  guess  at  the  tremendous 
facts,  the  German  wolf  had  already  made  his 
spring  and  been  foiled.  Not  only  had  he  missed 
his  real  quarry,  France,  he  had  also  broken  his 
fangs  on  the  tough  armour  of  Liege.  These 
things  Dalroy  and  Irene  Beresford  were  to 
learn  soon.  The  first  intimation  that  the  Bel- 
gian army  had  met  and  actually  fought  some 
portion  of  the  invading  host  came  before  dawn. 

The  road  to  Vise  ran  nearly  parallel  with, 
but  some  miles  north  of,  the  main  artery  be- 
tween Aix-la-Chapelle  and  Liege.  During  the 
small  hours  of  the  night  it  held  a  locust  flight 
of  German  cavalry.  Squadron  after  squadron, 
mostly  Uhlans,  trotted  past  the  slow-moving 
cart;  but  Joos's  man,  Maertz,  if  stolid  and 
heavy-witted,  had  the  sense  to  pull  well  out  of 
the  way  of  these  hurrying  troopers;  beyond 
evoking  an  occasional  curse,  he  was  not  mo- 
lested. The  brilliant  moon,  though  waning, 
helped  the  riders  to  avoid  him. 

Dalroy  and  the  girl  were  comfortably  seated, 
and  almost  hidden,  among  the  sacks  of  oats; 
they  were  free  to  talk  as  they  listed. 

Naturally,  a  soldier's  eyes  took  in  details  at 

39 


40  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

once  which  would  escape  a  woman;  but  Irene 
Beresford  soon  noted  signs  of  the  erratic  fight- 
ing which  had  taken  place  along  that  very 
road. 

11  Surely  we  are  in  Belgium  now?"  she 
whispered,  after  an  awed  glance  at  the  lights 
and  bustling  activity  of  a  field  hospital  estab- 
lished near  the  hamlet  of  Aubel. 

"Yes,"  said  Dalroy  quietly,  "we  have  been 
in  Belgium  fully  an  hour." 

"And  have  the  Germans  actually  attacked 
this  dear  little  country?" 

"So  it  would  seem. ' ' 

"But  why?  I  have  always  understood  that 
Belgium  was  absolutely  safe.  All  the  great 
nations  of  the  world  have  guaranteed  her  in- 
tegrity. '  ' 

"That  has  been  the  main  argument  of  every 
spouter  at  International  Peace  Congresses  for 
many  a  year,"  said  Dalroy  bitterly.  "If  Bel- 
gium and  Holland  can  be  preserved  by  agree- 
ment, they  contended,  why  should  not  all  other 
vexed  questions  be  settled  by  arbitration?  Yet 
one  of  our  chaps  in  the  Berlin  Embassy,  the 
man  whose  ticket  you  travelled  with,  told  me 
that  the  Kaiser  could  ;be  bluntly  outspoken 
when  that  very  question  was  raised  during  the 
autumn  manoeuvres  last  year.  'I  shall  sweep 
through  Belgium  thus,'  he  said,  swinging  his 
arm  as  though  brushing  aside  a  feeble  old 
crone  who  barred  his  way.  And  he  was  talking 
to  a  British  officer  too." 


FIRST  BLOOD  41 


"What  a  crime!  These  poor,  inoffensive 
people!  Have  they  resisted,  do  you  think?" 

"That  field  hospital  looked  pretty  busy,"  was 
the  grim  answer. 

A  little  farther  on,  at  a  cross  road,  there 
could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  as  to  what  had 
happened.  The  remains  of  a  barricade  littered 
the  ditches.  Broken  carts,  ploughs,  harrows, 
and  hurdles  lay  in  heaps.  The  carcasses  of 
scores  of  dead  horses  had  been  hastily  thrust 
aside  so  as  to  clear  a  passage.  In  a  meadow, 
working  by  the  light  of  lanterns,  gangs  of  sol- 
diers and  peasants  were  digging  long  pits, 
while  row  after  row  of  prone  figures  could  be 
glimpsed  when  the  light  carried  by  those  direct- 
ing the  operations  chanced  to  fall  on  them. 

Dalroy  knew,  of  course,  that  all  the  indica- 
tions pointed  to  a  successful,  if  costly,  German 
advance,  which  was  the  last  thing  he  had 
counted  on  in  this  remote  countryside.  If  the 
tide  of  war  was  rolling  into  Belgium  it  should, 
by  his  reckoning,  have  passed  to  the  south-west, 
engulfing  the  upper  valley  of  the  Meuse  and 
the  two  Luxembourgs  perhaps,  but  leaving  un- 
touched the  placid  land  on  the  frontier  of  Hol- 
land. For  a  time  he  feared  that  Holland,  too, 
was  being  attacked.  Understanding  something 
of  German  pride,  though  far  as  yet  from  plumb- 
ing the  depths  of  German  infamy,  he  imag- 
ined that  the  Teutonic  host  had  burst  all  bar- 
riers, and  was  bent  on  making  the  Rhine  a 
German  river  from  source  to  sea. 


42  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Naturally  he  did  not  fail  to  realise  that  the 
lumbering  wagon  was  taking  him  into  a  country 
already  securely  held  by  the  assailants.  There 
were  no  guards  at  the  cross  roads,  no  indica- 
tions of  military  precautions.  The  hospital,  the 
grave-diggers,  the  successive  troops  of  cavalry, 
felt  themselves  safe  even  in  the  semi-darkness, 
and  this  was  the  prerogative  of  a  conquering 
army.  In  the  conditions,  he  did  not  regard  his 
life  as  worth  much  more  than  an  hour's  pur- 
chase, and  he  tortured  his  wits  in  vain  for  some 
means  of  freeing  the  girl,  who  reposed  such  im- 
plicit confidence  in  him,  from  the  meshes  of  a 
net  which  he  felt  to  be  tightening  every  min- 
ute. He  simply  dreaded  the  coming  of  day- 
light, heralded  already  by  tints  of  heliotrope 
and  pink  in  the  eastern  sky.  Certain  undulat- 
ing contours  were  becoming  suspiciously  clear 
in  that  part  of  the  horizon.  It  might  be  only 
what  Hafiz  describes  as  the  false  dawn;  but, 
false  or  true,  the  new  day  was  at  hand.  He 
was  on  the  verge  of  advising  Irene  to  seek 
shelter  in  some  remote  hovel  which  their  guide 
could  surely  recommend  when  Fate  took  con- 
trol of  affairs. 

Maertz  had  now  pulled  up  in  obedience  to 
an  unusually  threatening  order  from  a  Uhlan 
officer  whose  horse  had  been  incommoded  in 
passing.  Above  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  ac- 
coutrements Dalroy's  trained  ear  had  detected 
the  sounds  of  a  heavy  and  continuous  can- 
nonade toward  the  south-west. 


FIRST  BLOOD  43 


"How  far  are  we  from  Vise?"  he  asked  the 
driver. 

The  man  pointed  with  his  whip.  "You  see 
that  black  knob  over  there?"  he  said. 

"Yes." 

"That's  a  clump  of  trees  just  above  the 
Meuse.  Vise  lies  below  it." 

"But  how  far?" 

"Not  more  than  two  kilometres." 

Two  kilometres!  About  a  mile  and  a  half! 
Dalroy  was  tortured  by  indecision.  '  *  Shall  we 
be  there  by  daybreak?" 

"With  luck.  I  don't  know  what's  been 
happening  here.  These  damned  Germans  are 
swarming  all  over  the  place.  They  must  be 
making  for  the  bridge." 

"What  bridge?" 

"The  bridge  across  the  Meuse,  of  course. 
Don't  you  know  these  parts?" 

1  *  Not  very  well. ' ' 

"I  wish  I  were  safe  at  home;  I'd  get  indoors 
and  stop  there,"  growled  the  driver,  chirping 
his  team  into  motion  again. 

Dalroy 's  doubts  were  stilled.  Better  leave 
this  rustic  philosopher  to  work  out  their  com- 
mon salvation. 

A  few  hundred  yards  ahead  the  road  bifur- 
cated. One  branch  led  to  Vise,  the  other  to 
Argenteau.  Here  was  stationed  a  picket,  evi- 
dently intended  as  a  guide  for  the  cavalry. 

Most  fortunately  Dalroy  read  aright  the 
intention  of  an  officer  who  came  forward  with 


44  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

an  electric  torch.  "Lie  as  flat  as  you  can!"  he 
whispered  to  Irene.  "If  they  find  us,  pretend 
to  be  asleep." 

"Hi,  you!"  cried  the  officer  to  Maertz, 
"where  the  devil  do  you  think  you're  going?" 

"To  Joos's  mill  at  Vise,"  said  the  gruff 
Walloon. 

"What's  in  the  cart  I" 

"Oats." 

"Almachtig!    Where  from?" 

' '  Aachen. ' ' 

"You  just  pull  ahead  into  that  road  there. 
I'll  attend  to  you  and  your  oats  in  a  minute  or 
two." 

"But  can't  I  push  on?" 

The  officer  called  to  a  soldier.  * '  See  that  this 
fellow  halts  twenty  yards  up  the  road,"  he 
said.  "If  he  stirs  then,  put  your  bayonet 
through  him.  These  Belgian  swine  don't  seem 
to  understand  that  they  are  Germans  now,  and 
must  obey  orders." 

The  officer,  of  course,  spoke  in  German,  the 
Walloon  in  the  mixture  of  Flemish  and  Low 
Dutch  which  forms  the  patois  of  the  district. 
But  each  could  follow  the  other's  meaning,  and 
the  quaking  listeners  in  the  middle  of  the  wagon 
had  no  difficulty  at  all  in  comprehending  the 
gravity  of  this  new  peril. 

Maertz  was  swearing  softly  to  himself;  they 
heard  him  address  a  question  to  the  sentry 
when  the  wagon  stopped  again.  "Why  won't 
your  officer  let  us  go  to  Vise  ? "  he  growled. 


FIRST  BLOOD  45 


" Sheep's  head!  do  as  you're  told,  or  it  will 
be  bad  for  you,"  was  the  reply. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  the  soldier's 
mouth  before  a  string  of  motor  lorries,  heavy 
vehicles  with  very  powerful  engines,  thundered 
up  from  the  rear.  The  leaders  passed  without 
difficulty,  as  there  was  plenty  of  room.  But 
their  broad  flat  tires  sucked  up  clouds  of  dust, 
and  the  moon  had  sunk  behind  a  wooded  height. 
One  of  the  hindermost  transports,  taking  too 
wide  a  bend,  crashed  into  the  wagon.  The 
startled  horses  plunged,  pulled  Maertz  off  his 
perch,  and  dragged  the  wagon  into  a  deep  ditch. 
It  fell  on  its  side,  and  Dalroy  and  his  com- 
panion were  thrown  into  a  field  amid  a  swirl  of 
laden  sacks,  some  of  which  burst. 

Dalroy  was  unhurt,  and  he  could  only  hope 
that  the  girl  also  had  escaped  injury.  Ere  he 
rose  he  clasped  her  around  the  neck  and  clapped 
a  hand  over  her  mouth  lest  she  should  scream. 
' '  Not  a  word ! "  he  breathed  into  her  ear.  * '  Can 
you  manage  to  crawl  on  all-fours  straight  on  by 
the  side  of  the  hedge?  Never  mind  thorns  or 
nettles.  It's  our  only  chance." 

In  a  few  seconds  they  were  free  of  the  hubbub 
which  sprang  up  around  the  overturned  wagon 
and  the  transport,  the  latter  having  shattered  a 
wheel.  Soon  they  were  able  to  rise,  crouching 
behind  the  hedge  as  they  ran.  They  turned  at 
an  angle,  and  struck  off  into  the  country,  follow- 
ing the  line  of  another  hedge  which  trended 
slightly  uphill.  At  a  gateway  they  turned 


46  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

again,  moving,  as  Dalroy  calculated,  on  the 
general  line  of  the  Vise  road.  A  low-roofed 
shanty  loomed  up  suddenly  against  the  sky.  It 
was  just  the  place  to  house  an  outpost,  and 
Dalroy  was  minded  to  avoid  it  when  the  lowing 
of  a  cow  in  pain  revealed  to  his  trained  intelli- 
gence the  practical  certainty  that  the  animal 
had  been  left  there  unattended,  and  needed  milk- 
ing. Still,  he  took  no  unnecessary  risks. 

"Remain  here,"  he  murmured.  "I'll  go 
ahead  and  investigate,  and  return  in  a  minute 
or  so." 

He  did  not  notice  that  the  girl  sank  beneath 
the  hedge  with  a  suspicious  alacrity.  He  was  a 
man,  a  fighter,  with  the  hot  breath  of  war  in 
his  nostrils.  Not  yet  had  he  sensed  the  cruel 
strain  which  war  places  on  women.  Moreover, 
his  faculties  were  centred  in  the  task  of  the 
moment.  The  soldier  is  warned  not  to  take  his 
eyes  off  the  enemy  while  reloading  his  rifle  lest 
the  target  be  lost ;  similarly,  Dalroy  knew  that 
concentration  was  the  prime  essential  of  scout- 
craft. 

Thus  he  was  deaf  to  the  distant  thunder  of 
guns,  but  alive  to  the  least  rustle  inside  the 
building;  blind  to  certain  ominous  gleams  on 
the  horizon,  but  quick  to  detect  any  moving 
object  close  at  hand.  He  made  out  that  a  door 
stood  open;  so,  after  a  few  seconds'  pause,  he 
slipped  rapidly  within,  and  stood  near  the  wall 
on  the  side  opposite  the  hinges.  An  animal 
stirred  uneasily,  and  the  plaintive  lowing 


FIRST  BLOOD  47 


ceased.  He  had  dropped  the  sabots  long  since, 
and  the  lamp  was  lost  in  the  spill  out  of  the 
wagon,  but  most  fortunately  he  had  matches 
in  his  pocket.  He  closed  the  door  softly,  struck 
a  match,  guarding  the  flame  with  both  hands, 
and  looked  round.  He  found  himself  in  a  ram- 
shackle shed,  half -barn,  half-stable.  In  a  stall 
was  tethered  a  black-and-white  cow,  her  udder 
distended  with  milk.  Huddled  up  against  the 
wall  was  the  corpse  of  a  woman,  an  old  peasant, 
whose  wizened  features  had  that  waxen  tint  of 
camailleu  gris  with  which,  in  their  illuminated 
missals  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  monks  loved  to 
portray  the  sufferings  of  the  early  Christian 
martyrs.  She  had  been  stabbed  twice  through 
the  breast.  An  overturned  pail  and  milking- 
stool  showed  how  and  where  death  had  sur- 
prised her. 

The  match  flickered  out,  and  Dalroy  was  left 
in  the  darkness  of  the  tomb.  He  had  a  second 
match  in  his  hand,  and  was  on  the  verge  of 
striking  it  when  he  heard  a  man's  voice  and  the 
swish  of  feet  through  the  grass  of  the  pasture 
without. 

"This  is  the  place,  Heinrich,"  came  the  words 
in  guttural  German,  and  breathlessly.  Then, 
with  certain  foulnesses  of  expression,  the 
speaker  added,  "I'm  puffed.  That  girl  fought 
like  a  wild  cat. ' ' 

"She's  pretty,  too,  for  a  Belgian,"  agreed 
another  voice. 

"So.    But  I  couldn't  put  up  with  her  screech- 


48  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

ing  when  you  told  her  that  a  bayonet  had 
stopped  her  grandam's  nagging  tongue." 

'  Ach,  was!    What  matter,  at  eighty?" 

Dalroy  had  pulled  the  door  open.  Stooping, 
he  sought  for  and  found  the  milking-stool,  a 
solid  article  of  sound  oak.  Through  a  chink  he 
saw  two  dark  forms ;  glints  of  the  dawn  on  fixed 
bayonets  showed  that  the  men  were  carrying 
their  rifles  slung.  At  the  door  the  foremost 
switched  on  an  electric  torch. 

"  You  milk,  Heinrich,"  he  said,  "  while  I  show 
a  glim. '  ' 

He  advanced  a  pace,  as  Dalroy  expected  he 
would,  so  the  swing  of  the  stool  caught  him  on 
the  right  side  of  the  head,  partly  on  the  ear  and 
partly  on  the  rim  of  his  Pickel-haube.  But  his 
skull  was  fractured  for  all  that.  Heinrich  fared 
no  better,  though  the  torch  was  shattered  on  the 
rough  paving  of  the  stable.  A  thrust  floored 
him,  and  he  fell  with  a  fearsome  clatter  of 
accoutrements.  A  second  blow  on  the  temple 
stilled  the  startled  oath  on  his  lips.  Dalroy 
divested  him  of  the  rifle,  and  stuffed  a  few  clips 
of  cartridges  into  his  own  pockets. 

Then,  ready  for  any  others  of  a  cut-throat 
crew,  he  listened.  One  of  the  pair  on  the 
ground  was  gasping  for  breath.  The  cow  began 
lowing  again.  That  was  all.  There  was  neither 
sight  nor  sound  of  Irene,  though  she  must  have 
heard  enough  to  frighten  her  badly. 

"Miss  Beresford!"  he  said,  in  a  sibilant  hiss 
which  would  carry  easily  to  the  point  where  he 


FIRST  BLOOD  49 


had  left  her.  No  answer.  Nature  was  still.  It 
was  as  though  inanimate  things  were  awake, 
but  quaking.  The  breathing  of  the  unnamed 
German  changed  abruptly  into  a  gurgling  croak. 
Heinrich  had  traversed  that  stage  swiftly  under 
the  second  blow.  From  the  roads  came  the 
sharp  rattle  of  horses'  feet,  the  panting  of 
motors.  The  thud  of  gun-fire  smote  the  air  in- 
cessantly. It  suggested  the  monstrous  pulse- 
beat  of  an  alarmed  world.  Over  a  hilltop  the 
beam  of  a  searchlight  hovered  for  an  instant, 
and  vanished.  Belgium,  little  Belgium,  was  in 
a  death-grapple  with  mighty  Germany.  Even 
in  her  agony  she  was  crying,  "What  of  Eng- 
land? Will  England  help?"  Well,  one  Eng- 
lishman had  lessened  by  two  the  swarm  of  her 
enemies  that  night. 

Dalroy  was  only  vaguely  conscious  of  the 
scope  and  magnitude  of  events  in  which  he  was 
bearing  so  small  a  part.  He  knew  enough  of 
German  methods  in  his  immediate  surround- 
ings, however,  to  reck  as  little  of  having  killed 
two  men  as  though  they  were  rats.  His  sole 
and  very  real  concern  was  for  the  girl  who 
answered  not.  Before  going  in  search  of  her 
he  was  tempted  to  don  a  Pickel-haube,  which, 
with  the  rifle  and  bayonet,  would,  in  the  misty 
light,  deceive  any  new-comers.  But  the  field 
appeared  to  be  untenanted,  and  it  occurred  to 
him  that  his  companion  might  actually  en- 
deavour to  hide  if  she  took  him  for  a  German 
soldier.  So  he  did  not  even  carry  the  weapon. 


50  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

He  found  Irene  at  once.  She  had  simply 
fainted,  and  the  man  who  now  lifted  her  limp 
form  tenderly  in  his  arms  was  vexed  at  his  own 
forgetfulness.  The  girl  had  slept  but  little 
during  two  nights.  Meals  were  irregular  and 
scanty.  She  had  lived  in  a  constant  and  in- 
creasing strain,  while  the  real  danger  and  great 
physical  exertion  of  the  past  few  minutes  had 
provided  a  climax  beyond  her  powers. 

Like  the  mass  of  young  officers  in  the  British 
army,  Dalroy  kept  himself  fit,  even  during  fur- 
lough, by  long  walks,  daily  exercises,  and  sys- 
tematic abstention  from  sleep,  food,  and  drink. 
If  a  bed  was  too  comfortable  he  changed  it.  If 
an  undertaking  could  be  accomplished  equally 
well  in  conditions  of  hardship  or  luxury  he 
chose  hardship.  Soldiering  was  his  profession, 
and  he  held  the  theory  that  a  soldier  must  al- 
ways be  ready  to  withstand  the  severest  tax  on 
brain  and  physique.  Therefore  the  minor  pri- 
vations of  the  journey  from  Berlin,  with  its 
decidedly  strenuous  sequel  at  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
and  this  D'Artagnan  episode  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Vise,  had  made  no  material  drain  on  his 
resources. 

A  girl  like  Irene  Beresford,  swept  into  the 
sirocco  of  war  from  the  ordered  and  sheltered 
life  of  a  young  Englishwoman  of  the  middle- 
classes,  was  an  altogether  different  case.  He 
believed  her  one  of  the  small  army  of  British- 
born  women  who  find  independence  and  fair 
remuneration  for  their  services  by  acting  as 


FIRST  BLOOD  51 


governesses  and  ladies '  companions  on  the  Con- 
tinent. Nearly  every  German  family  of  wealth 
and  social  pretensions  counted  the  Englische 
Frdulein  as  a  member  of  the  household;  even 
in  autocratic  Prussia,  Kultur  is  not  always  spelt 
with  a '  *  K. "  She  was  well-dressed,  and  supplied 
with  ample  means  for  travelling ;  but  plenty  of 
such  girls  owned  secured  incomes,  treating  a 
salary  as  an  "extra."  Moreover,  she  spoke 
German  like  a  native,  had  a  small  sister  in 
Brussels,  and  had  evidently  met  Von  Halwig 
in  one  of  the  great  houses  of  the  capital.  Un- 
doubtedly, she  was  a  superior  type  of  governess, 
or,  it  might  be,  English  mistress  in  a  girls'  high 
school. 

These  considerations  did  not  crowd  in  on 
Dalroy  while  he  was  holding  her  in  close  em- 
brace in  a  field  near  Vise  at  dawn  on  the  morn- 
ing of  Wednesday,  5th  August.  They  were  the 
outcome  of  nebulous  ideas  formed  in  the  train. 
At  present,  his  one  thought  was  the  welfare  of 
a  hapless  woman  of  his  own  race,  be  she  a  peer's 
daughter  or  a  postman's. 

Now,  skilled  leader  of  men  though  he  was,  he 
had  little  knowledge  of  the  orthodox  remedies 
for  a  fainting  woman.  Like  most  people,  he 
was  aware  that  a  loosening  of  bodices  and  cor- 
sets, a  chafing  of  hands,  a  vigorous  massage  of 
the  feet  and  ankles,  tended  to  restore  circula- 
tion, and  therefore  consciousness.  But  none  of 
these  simple  methods  was  practicable  when  a 
party  of  German  soldiers  might  be  hunting  for 


52  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

both  of  them,  while  another  batch  might  be 
minded  to  follow  "Heinrich"  and  his  fellow- 
butcher.  So  he  carried  her  to  the  stable  and 
laid  her  on  a  truss  of  straw  noted  during  that 
first  vivid  glimpse  of  the  interior. 

Then,  greatly  daring,  he  milked  the  cow. 

Not  only  did  the  poor  creature's  suffering 
make  an  irresistible  appeal,  but  in  relieving  her 
distress  he  was  providing  the  best  of  nourish- 
ment for  Irene  and  himself.  The  cow  gave  no 
trouble.  Soon  the  milk  was  flowing  steadily 
into  the  pail.  The  darkness  was  abysmal.  On 
one  hand  lay  a  dead  woman,  on  the  other  an 
unconscious  one,  and  two  dead  men  guarded  the 
doorway.  Once,  in  Paris,  Dalroy  had  seen  one 
of  the  lurid  playlets  staged  at  the  Grand 
Guignol,  wherein  a  woman  served  a  meal  for  a 
friend  and  chatted  cheerfully  during  its  prog- 
ress, though  the  body  of  her  murdered  husband 
was  stowed  behind  a  couch  and  a  window- 
curtain.  He  recalled  the  horrid  little  tragedy 
now;  but  that  was  make-believe,  this  was  grim 
reality. 

Yet  he  had  ever  an  eye  for  the  rectangle  of 
the  doorway.  When  a  quality  of  grayness 
sharpened  its  outlines  he  knew  it  was  high  time 
to  be  on  the  move.  Happily,  at  that  instant, 
Irene  sighed  deeply  and  stirred.  Ere  she  had 
any  definite  sense  of  her  surroundings  she  was 
yielding  to  Dalroy 's  earnest  appeal,  and  allow- 
ing him  to  guide  her  faltering  steps.  He  carried 
the  pail  and  the  rifle  in  his  left  hand.  With  the 


FIRST  BLOOD  53 


right  he  gripped  the  girl's  arm,  and  literally 
forced  her  into  a  walk. 

The  wood  indicated  by  Maertz  was  plainly 
visible  now,  and  close  at  hand,  and  the  first 
rays  of  daylight  gave  colour  to  the  landscape. 
The  hour,  as  Dalroy  ascertained  later,  was 
about  a  quarter  to  four. 

It  was  vitally  essential  that  they  should  reach 
cover  within  the  next  five  minutes;  but  his 
companion  was  so  manifestly  unequal  to  sus- 
tained effort  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  carry- 
ing her  in  order  to  gain  the  protection  of  the 
first  hedgerow  when  he  noticed  that  a  slight  de- 
pression in  the  hillside  curved  in  the  direction 
of  the  wood.  Here,  too,  were  shrubs  and  tufts 
of  long  grass.  Indeed,  the  shallow  trough 
proved  to  be  one  of  the  many  heads  of  a  ravine. 
The  discovery  of  a  hidden  way  at  that  moment 
contributed  as  greatly  as  any  other  circum- 
stance to  their  escape.  They  soon  learnt  that 
the  German  hell-hounds  were  in  full  cry  on  their 
track. 

At  the  first  bend  Dalroy  called  a  halt.  He 
told  Irene  to  sit  down,  and  she  obeyed  so  will- 
ingly that,  rendered  wiser  by  events,  he  feared 
lest  she  should  faint  again. 

When  travelling  he  made  it  a  habit  to  carry 
two  handkerchiefs,  one  for  use  and  one  in  case 
of  emergency,  such  as  a  bandage  being  in  sud- 
den demand,  so  he  was  able  to  produce  a  square 
of  clean  cambric,  which  he  folded  cup-shape 
and  partly  filled  with  milk.  It  was  the  best 


54  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

substitute  he  could  devise  for  a  strainer,  and  it 
served  admirably.  By  this  means  they  drank 
nearly  all  the  milk  he  had  secured,  and,  with 
each  mouthful,  Irene  felt  a  new  eichor  in  her 
veins.  For  the  first  time  she  gave  heed  to  the 
rifle. 

"How  did  you  get  that?"  she  asked,  wide- 
eyed  with  wonder. 

"I  picked  it  up  at  the  door  of  the  shed,"  he 
answered. 

"I  remember  now,"  she  murmured.  "You 
left  me  under  a  hedge  while  you  crept  forward 
to  investigate,  and  I  was  silly  enough  to  go  off 
in  a  dead  faint.  Did  you  carry  me  to  the 
shed?" 

"Yes." 

"What  a  bother  I  must  have  been.  But  the 
finding  of  a  rifle  doesn't  explain  a  can  of  milk." 

"The  really  important  factor  was  the  cow," 
he  said  lightly.  "Now,  young  lady,  if  you  can 
talk  you  can  walk.  We  have  a  little  farther  to 
go." 

* '  Have  we  ?  "  she  retorted,  bravely  emulating 
his  self-control.  "I  am  glad  you  have  fixed  on 
our  destination.  It's  quite  a  relief  to  be  in 
charge  of  a  man  who  really  knows  what  he 
wants,  and  sees  that  he  gets  it." 

He  led  the  way,  she  followed.  He  had  an 
eye  for  all  quarters,  because  daylight  was  com- 
ing now  with  the  flying  feet  of  Aurora.  But 
this  tiny  section  of  Belgium  was  free  from 
Germans,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  their 


FIRST  BLOOD  55 


cohorts  already  held  the  right  bank  of  the 
Meuse  at  many  points,  and  their  engineers  were 
throwing  pontoon  bridges  across  the  river  at 
Vise  and  Argenteau. 

From  the  edge  of  the  wood  Dalroy  looked 
down  on  the  river,  the  railway,  and  the  little 
town  itself.  He  saw  instantly  that  the  whole 
district  south  of  the  Meuse  was  strongly  held 
by  the  invaders.  Three  arches  of  a  fine  stone 
bridge  had  been  destroyed,  evidently  by  the 
retreating  Belgians ;  but  pontoons  were  in  posi- 
tion to  take  its  place.  Twice  already  had  Bel- 
gian artillery  destroyed  the  enemy's  work,  and 
not  even  a  professional  soldier  could  guess  that 
the  guns  of  the  defence  were  only  awaiting  a 
better  light  to  smash  the  pontoons  a  third  time. 
In  fact,  barely  half-a-mile  to  the  right  of  the 
wood,  a  battery  of  four  5.9  's  was  posted  on  high 
ground,  in  the  hope  that  the  Belgian  guns  of 
smaller  calibre  might  be  located  and  crushed  at 
once.  Even  while  the  two  stood  looking  down 
into  the  valley,  a  sputtering  rifle-fire  broke  out 
across  the  river,  three  hundred  yards  wide  at 
the  bridge,  and  the  volume  of  musketry  steadily 
increased.  Men,  horses,  wagons,  and  motors 
swarmed  on  the  roadway  or  sheltered  behind 
warehouses  on  the  quays. 

As  a  soldier,  Dalroy  was  amazed  at  the  speed 
and  annihilating  completeness  of  the  German 
mobilisation.  Indeed,  he  was  chagrined  by  it, 
it  seemed  so  admirable,  so  thoroughly  thought- 
out  in  each  detail,  so  unapproachable  by  any 


56  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

other  nation  in  its  pitiless  efficiency.  He  did 
not  know  then  that  the  vaunted  Prussian-made 
military  machine  depended  for  its  motive-power 
largely  on  treachery  and  espionage.  Toward 
the  close  of  July,  many  days  before  war  was 
declared,  Germany  had  secretly  massed  nine 
hundred  thousand  men  on  the  frontiers  of 
Belgium  and  the  Duchy  of  Luxembourg.  Her 
armies,  therefore,  had  gathered  like  felons, 
and  were  led  by  master-thieves  in  the  per- 
sons of  thousands  of  German  officers  domi- 
ciled in  both  countries  in  the  guise  of  peaceful 
traders. 

Single-minded  person  that  he  was,  Dalroy 
at  once  focussed  his  thoughts  on  the  immediate 
problem.  A  small  stream  leaped  down  from  the 
wood  to  the  Meuse.  Short  of  a  main  road 
bridge  its  turbulent  course  was  checked  by  a 
mill-dam,  and  there  was  some  reason  to  believe 
that  the  mill  might  be  Joos's.  The  building 
seemed  a  prosperous  place,  with  its  two  giant 
wheels  on  different  levels,  its  ample  granaries, 
and  a  substantial  house.  It  was  intact,  too,  and 
somewhat  apart  from  the  actual  line  of  battle. 
At  any  rate,  though  the  transition  was  the  time- 
honoured  one  from  the  frying-pan  to  the  fire, 
in  that  direction  lay  food,  shelter,  and  human 
beings  other  than  Germans,  so  he  determined 
to  go  there  without  further  delay.  His  main 
purpose  now  was  to  lodge  his  companion  with 
some  Belgian  family  until  the  tide  of  war  had 
swept  far  to  the  west.  For  himself,  he  meant 


FIRST  BLOOD  57 


to  cross  the  enemy's  lines  by  hook  or  by  crook, 
or  lose  his  life  in  the  attempt. 

"One  more  effort,"  he  said,  smiling  con- 
fidently into  Irene's  somewhat  pallid  face. 
"Your  uncle  lives  below  there,  I  fancy.  We're 
about  to  claim  his  hospitality. ' ' 

He  hid  the  rifle,  bayonet,  and  cartridges  in  a 
thicket.  The  milk-pail  he  took  with  him.  If 
they  met  a  German  patrol  the  pail  might  serve 
as  an  excuse  for  being  out  and  about,  whereas 
the  weapons  would  have  been  a  sure  passport  to 
the  next  world. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  they  entered  the 
miller's  yard.  They  saw  the  name  Henri  Joos 
on  a  cart. 

* l  Good  egg ! ' '  cried  Dalroy  confidently.  "  I  'm 
glad  Joos  spells  his  Christian  name  in  the 
French  way.  It  shows  that  he  means  well,  any- 
how!" 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE   TRAGEDY   OF 

EARLY  as  was  the  hour,  a  door  leading  to  the 
dwelling-house  stood  open.  The  sound  of  feet 
on  the  cobbled  pavement  of  the  mill-yard 
brought  a  squat,  beetle-browed  old  man  to  the 
threshold.  He  surveyed  the  strangers  with  a 
curiously  haphazard  yet  piercing  underlook. 
His  black  eyes  held  a  glint  of  red.  Here  was 
one  in  a  subdued  torment  of  rage,  or,  it  might 
be,  of  ill-controlled  panic. 

"What  now?"  he  grunted,  using  the  local 
argot. 

Dalroy,  quick  to  read  character,  decided  that 
this  crabbed  old  Walloon  was  to  be  won  at  once 
or  not  at  all. 

"Shall  I  speak  French  or  German?"  he  said 
quietly.  The  other  spat. 

"Qu'est-ce  que  tu  veux  que  je  te  dise,  moi?" 
he  demanded.  Now,  the  plain  English  of  that 
question  is,  "What  do  you  wish  me  to  say?" 
But  the  expectoration,  no  less  than  the  biting 
tone,  lent  the  words  a  far  deeper  meaning. 

Dalroy  was  reassured.  "Are  you  Monsieur 
Henri  Joos?"  he  said. 

"Ay." 

"This  lady  and  I  have  come  from  Aix-la* 
Chapelle  with  your  man,  Maertz." 

68 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  59 

1  'Oh,  he's  alive,  then?" 

"I  hope  so.    But  may  we  not  enter?" 

Joos  eyed  the  engine-cleaner's  official  cap 
and  soiled  clothes,  and  his  suspicious  gaze  trav- 
elled to  Dalroy's  well-fitting  and  expensive 
boots. 

"Who  the  deuce  are  you?"  he  snapped. 

"I'll  tell  you  if  you  let  us  come  in." 

"I  can't  hinder  you.  It  is  an  order,  all  doors 
must  be  left  open." 

Still,  he  made  way,  though  ungraciously. 
The  refugees  found  themselves  in  a  spacious 
kitchen,  a  comfortable  and  cleanly  place,  Dutch 
in  its  colourings  and  generally  spick  and  span 
aspect.  A  comely  woman  of  middle  age,  and  a 
plump,  good-looking  girl  about  as  old  as  Irene, 
were  seated  on  an  oak  bench  beneath  a  window. 
They  were  clinging  to  each  other,  and  had 
evidently  listened  fearfully  to  the  brief  con- 
versation without. 

The  only  signs  of  disorder  in  the  room  were 
supplied  by  a  quantity  of  empty  wine-bottles, 
drinking-mugs,  soiled  plates,  and  cutlery, 
spread  on  a  broad  table.  Irene  sank  into  one 
of  half-a-dozen  chairs  which  had  apparently 
been  used  by  the  feasters. 

Joos  chuckled.  His  laugh  had  an  ugly  sound. 
"Pity  you  weren't  twenty  minutes  sooner,"  he 
guffawed.  ' '  You  'd  have  had  company,  pleasant 
company,  visitors  from  across  the  frontier." 

"I,  too,  have  crossed  the  frontier,"  said 
Irene,  a  wan  smile  lending  pathos  to  her  beauty. 


60  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"I  travelled  with  Germans  from  Berlin.  If  I 
saw  a  German  now  I  think  I  should  die." 

At  that,  Madame  Joos  rose.  "Calm  thyself, 
Henri,"  she  said.  "These  people  are  friends." 

"Maybe,"  retorted  her  husband.  He  turned 
on  Dalroy  with  surprising  energy,  seeing  that 
he  was  some  twenty  years  older  than  his  wife. 
"You  say  that  you  came  with  Maertz,"  he  went 
on.  "Where  is  he?  He  has  been  absent  four 
days." 

By  this  time  Dalroy  thought  he  had  taken 
the  measure  of  his  man.  No  matter  what  the 
outcome  to  himself  personally,  Miss  Beresford 
must  be  helped.  She  could  go  no  farther  with- 
out food  and  rest.  He  risked  everything  on  the 
spin  of  a  coin.  "We  are  English,"  he  said, 
speaking  very  slowly  and  distinctly,  so  that  each 
syllable  should  penetrate  the  combined  brains 
of  the  Joos  family.  "We  were  only  trying  to 
leave  Germany,  meaning  harm  to  none,  but 
were  arrested  as  spies  at  Aix-la-Chapelle.  We 
escaped  by  a  ruse.  I  knocked  a  man  silly,  and 
took  some  of  his  clothes.  Then  we  happened 
on  Maertz  at  a  corner  of  Franz  Strasse,  and 
persuaded  him  to  give  us  a  lift.  We  jogged 
along  all  right  until  we  reached  the  cross-roads 
beyond  the  hill  there,"  and  he  pointed  in  the 
direction  of  the  wood.  "A  German  officer  re- 
fused to  allow  us  to  pass,  but  a  motor  transport 
knocked  the  wagon  over,  and  this  lady  and  I 
were  thrown  into  a  field.  We  got  away  in  the 
confusion,  and  made  for  a  cowshed  lying  well 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  61 

back  from  the  road  and  on  the  slope  of  the  hill. 
At  that  point  my  friend  fainted,  luckily  for 
herself,  because,  when  I  examined  the  shed,  I 
found  the  corpse  of  an  old  woman  there.  She 
had  evidently  been  about  to  milk  a  black-and- 
white  cow  when  she  was  bayoneted  by  a  German 
soldier " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  choking  sob  from 
Madame  Joos,  who  leaned  a  hand  on  the  table 
for  support.  In  pose  and  features  she  would 
have  served  as  a  model  for  Hans  Memling's 
"portrait"  of  Saint  Elizabeth,  which  in  happier 
days  used  to  adorn  the  hospital  at  Bruges. 
"The  Widow  Jaquinot,"  she  gasped. 

"Of  course,  madame,  I  don't  know  the  poor 
creature's  name.  I  was  wondering  how  to  act 
for  the  best  when  two  soldiers  came  to  the 
stable.  I  heard  what  they  were  saying.  One  of 
them  admitted  that  he  had  stabbed  the  old 
woman ;  his  words  also  implied  that  he  and  his 
comrade  had  violated  her  granddaughter.  So  I 
picked  up  a  milking-stool  and  killed  both  of 
them.  I  took  one  of  their  rifles,  which,  with  its 
bayonet  and  a  number  of  cartridges,  I  hid  at  the 
top  of  the  ravine.  This  is  the  pail  which  I 
found  in  the  shed.  No  doubt  it  belongs  to  the 
Jaquinot  household.  Now,  I  have  told  you  the 
actual  truth.  I  ask  nothing  for  myself.  If  I 
stay  here,  even  though  you  permit  it,  my  pres- 
ence will  certainly  bring  ruin  on  you.  So  I  shall 
go  at  once.  But  I  do  ask  you,  as  Christian 
people,  to  safeguard  this  young  English  lady, 


62  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

and,  when  conditions  permit,  and  she  has  recov- 
ered her  strength,  to  guide  her  into  Holland, 
unless,  that  is,  these  German  beasts  are  attack- 
ing the  Dutch  too. ' ' 

For  a  brief  space  there  was  silence.  Dalroy 
looked  fixedly  at  Joos,  trying  to  read  Irene 
Beresford's  fate  in  those  black,  glowing  eyes. 
The  womenfolk  were  won  already;  but  well  he 
knew  that  in  this  Belgian  nook  the  patriarchal 
principle  that  a  man  is  lord  and  master  in  his 
own  house  would  find  unquestioned  acceptance. 
He  was  aware  that  Irene's  gaze  was  riveted  on 
him  in  a  strangely  magnetic  way.  It  was  one 
thing  that  he  should  say  calmly,  "So  I  picked 
up  a  milking-stool,  and  killed  both  of  them," 
but  quite  another  that  Irene  should  visualise 
in  the  light  of  her  rare  intelligence  the  epic 
force  of  the  tragedy  enacted  while  she  lay  un- 
conscious in  the  depths  of  a  hedgerow.  Dalroy 
could  tell,  Heaven  knows  how,  that  her  very  soul 
was  peering  at  him.  In  that  tense  moment  he 
knew  that  he  was  her  man  for  ever.  But — 
surgit  amari  aliquid!  A  wave  of  bitterness 
welled  up  from  heart  to  brain  because  of  the 
conviction  that  if  he  would,  indeed,  be  her  true 
knight  he  must  leave  her  within  the  next  few 
seconds.  Yet  his  resolution  did  not  waver. 
Not  once  did  his  glance  swerve  from  Joos's 
wizened  face. 

It  was  the  miller  himself  who  first  broke  the 
spell  cast  on  the  curiously  assorted  group  by 
Dalroy 's  story.  He  stretched  out  a  hand  and 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  63 

took  the  pail.  "This  is  fresh  milk,"  he  said, 
examining  the  dregs. 

"Yes.  I  milked  the  cow.  The  poor  animal 
was  in  pain,  and  my  friend  and  I  wanted  the 
milk." 

"You  milked  the  cow — before?" 

"No.    After." 

"Grand  Dieu!  you're  English,  without 
doubt." 

Joos  turned  the  pail  upside  down,  appraising 
it  critically.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "it's  one  of  Du- 
pont's.  I  remember  her  buying  it.  She  gave 
him  fifty  kilos  of  potatoes  for  it.  She  stuck 
him,  he  said.  Half  the  potatoes  were  black.  A 
rare  hand  at  a  bargain,  the  Veuve  Jaquinot. 
And  she's  dead  you  tell  me.  A  bayonet 
thrust?" 

"Two." 

Madame  Joos  burst  into  hysterical  sobbing. 
Her  husband  whisked  round  on  her  with  that 
singlar  alertness  of  movement  which  was  one 
of  his  most  marked  characteristics. 

* '  Peace,  wife ! "  he  snapped.  * '  Isn  't  that  what 
we're  all  coming  to?  What  matter  to  Dupont 
now  whether  the  potatoes  were  black  or 
sound?" 

Dalroy  guessed  that  Dupont  was  the  iron- 
monger of  Vise.  He  was  gaining  a  glimpse,  too, 
of  the  indomitable  soul  of  Belgium.  Though 
itching  for  information,  he  checked  the^impulse, 
because  time  pressed  horribly. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "will  you  do  what  you  can 


64  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

for  the  lady?  The  Germans  have  spared  you. 
You  have  fed  them.  They  may  treat  you  de- 
cently. I'll  make  it  worth  while.  I  have 
plenty  of  money " 

Irene  stood  up.  " Monsieur/'  she  said,  and 
her  voice  was  sweet  as  the  song  of  a  robin,  "it 
is  idle  to  speak  of  saving  one  without  the  other. 
Where  Monsieur  Dalroy  goes  I  go.  If  he  dies, 
I  die." 

For  the  first  time  since  entering  the  mill 
Dalroy  dared  to  look  at  her.  In  the  sharp, 
crisp  light  of  advancing  day  her  blue  eyes  held 
a  tint  of  violet.  Tear-drops  glistened  in  the 
long  lashes ;  but  she  smiled  wistfully,  as  though 
pleading  for  forgiveness. 

"That  is  sheer  nonsense,"  he  cried  in  Eng- 
lish, making  a  miserable  failure  of  the  anger 
he  tried  to  assume.  "You  ought  to  be  rea- 
sonably safe  here.  By  insisting  on  remaining 
with  me  you  deliberately  sacrifice  both  our 
lives.  That  is,  I  mean,"  he  added  hastily, 
aware  of  a  slip,  "you  prevent  me  too  from 
taking  the  chance  of  escape  that  offers." 

"If  that  were  so  I  would  not  thrust  myself 
on  you,"  she  answered.  "But  I  know  the 
Germans.  I  know  how  they  mean  to  wage  war. 
They  make  no  secret  of  it.  They  intend  to 
strike  terror  into  every  heart  at  the  outset. 
They  are  not  men,  but  super-brutes.  You  saw 
Von  Halwig  at  Berlin,  and  again  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle.  If  a  titled  Prussian  can  change  his 
superficial  manners — not  his  nature,  which 


65 


remains  invariably  bestial — to  that  extent  in  a 
day,  before  he  has  even  the  excuse  of  actual 
war,  what  will  the  same  man  become  when 
roused  to  fury  by  resistance?  But  we  must 
not  talk  English."  She  turned  to  Joos.  "Tell 
us,  then,  monsieur,"  she  said,  grave  and  serious 
as  Pallas  Athena  questioning  Perseus,  "have 
not  the  Prussians  already  ravaged  and  de- 
stroyed Vise?" 

The  old  man's  face  suddenly  lost  its  bronze, 
and  became  ivory  white.  His  features  grew 
convulsed.  He  resembled  one  of  those  gro- 
tesque masks  carved  by  Japanese  artists  to 
simulate  a  demon.  "Curse  them!"  he  shrilled. 
"Curse  them  in  life  and  in  death — man, 
woman,  and  child!  What  has  Belgium  done 
that  she  should  be  harried  by  a  pack  of  wolves  I 
Who  can  say  what  wolves  will  do?" 

Joos  was  aboil  with  vitriolic  passion. 
There  was  no  knowing  how  long  this  tirade 
might  have  gone  on  had  not  a  speckled  hen 
stalked  firmly  in  through  the  open  door  with 
obvious  and  settled  intent  to  breakfast  on 
crumbs. 

"del!"  cackled  the  orator.  "Not  a  fowl 
was  fed  overnight!" 

In  real  life,  as  on  the  stage,  comedy  and 
tragedy  oft  go  hand  in  hand.  But  the  speckled 
hen  deserved  a  good  meal.  Her  entrance  un- 
doubtedly stemmed  the  floodtide  of  her  owner's 
patriotic  wrath,  and  thus  enabled  the  five  peo- 
ple in  the  kitchen  to  overhear  a  hoarse  cry 


66  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

from  the  roadway:  "Hi,  there,  dummer  Esel! 
whither  goest  thou?  This  is  Joos's  mill." 

"Quick,  Leontine!"  cried  Joos.  "To  the 
second  loft  with  them!  Sharp,  now!" 

In  this  unexpected  crisis,  Dalroy  could 
neither  protest  nor  refuse  to  accompany  the 
girl,  who  led  him  and  Irene  up  a  back  stair 
and  through  a  well-stored  granary  to  a  ladder 
which  communicated  with  a  trap-door. 

"I'll  bring  you  some  coffee  and  eggs  as  soon 
as  I  can,"  she  whispered.  "Draw  up  the  lad- 
der, and  close  the  door.  It's  not  so  bad  up 
there.  There's  a  window,  but  take  care  you 
aren't  seen.  Maybe,"  she  added  tremulously, 
"you  are  safer  than  we  now." 

Dalroy  realised  that  it  was  best  to  obey. 

' '  Courage,  mademoiselle ! "  he  said.  *  *  God  is 
still  in  heaven,  and  all  will  be  well  with  the 
world." 

"Please,  monsieur,  what  became  of  Jan 
Maertz?"  she  inquired  timidly. 

"I'm  not  quite  certain,  but  I  think  he  fell 
clear  of  the  wagon.  The  Germans  should  not 
have  ill-treated  him.  The  collision  was  not  his 
fault." 

The  girl  sobbed,  and  left  them.  Probably 
the  gruff  Walloon  was  her  lover. 

Irene  climbed  first.  Dalroy  followed,  raised 
the  ladder  noiselessly,  and  lowered  the  trap. 
His  brow  was  seamed  with  foreboding,  as,  de- 
spite his  desire  to  leave  his  companion  in  the 
care  of  the  miller's  household,  he  had  an  in- 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  67 

stinctive  feeling  that  he  was  acting  unwisely. 
Moreover,  like  every  free  man,  he  preferred  to 
seek  the  open  when  in  peril.  Now  he  felt  him- 
self caged. 

Therefore  was  he  amazed  when  Irene  laughed 
softly.  "How  readily  you  translate  Browning 
into  French!"  she  said. 

He  gazed  at  her  in  wonderment.  Less  than 
an  hour  ago  she  had  fainted  under  the  stress  of 
hunger  and  dread,  yet  here  was  she  talking  as 
though  they  had  met  in  the  breakfast-room  of 
an  English  country  house.  He  would  have  said 
something,  but  the  ancient  mill  trembled  under 
the  sudden  crash  of  artillery.  The  roof  creaked, 
the  panes  of  glass  in  the  dormer  window  rat- 
tled, and  fragments  of  mortar  fell  from  the 
walls.  Unmindful,  for  the  moment,  of  Leon- 
tine  Joos's  warning,  Dalroy  went  to  the  win- 
dow, which  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the 
town,  river,  and  opposite  heights. 

The  pontoon  bridge  was  broken.  Several 
pontoons  were  in  splinters.  The  others  were 
swinging  with  the  current  toward  each  bank. 
Six  Belgian  field-pieces  had  undone  the  night's 
labour,  and  a  lively  rat-tat  of  rifles,  mixed  with 
the  stutter  of  machine  guns,  proved  that  the 
defenders  were  busy  among  the  Germans 
trapped  on  the  north  bank.  The  heavier  ord- 
nance brought  to  the  front  by  the  enemy  soon 
took  up  the  challenge;  troops  occupying  the 
town,  which,  for  the  most  part,  lies  on  the 
south  bank,  began  to  cover  the  efforts  of  the 


68  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

engineers,  instantly  renewed.  History  was 
being  written  in  blood  that  morning  on  both 
sides  of  the  Meuse.  The  splendid  defence  of- 
fered by  a  small  Belgian  force  was  thwarting 
the  advance  of  the  9th  German  Army  Corps. 
Similarly,  the  10th  and  7th  were  being  held 
up  at  Verviers  and  on  the  direct  road  from 
Aix  to  Liege  respectively.  All  this  meant  that 
General  Leman,  the  heroic  commander-in-chief 
at  Liege,  was  given  most  precious  time  to  gar- 
rison that  strong  fortress,  construct  wire  en- 
tanglements, lay  mines,  and  destroy  roads  and 
railways,  which  again  meant  that  Von  Em- 
mich's  sledge-hammer  blows  with  three  army 
corps  failed  to  overwhelm  Liege  in  accordance 
with  the  dastardly  plan  drawn  up  by  the  Ger- 
man staff. 

Dalroy,  though  he  might  not  realise  the  mar- 
vellous fact  then,  was  in  truth  a  spectator  of 
a  serious  German  defeat.  Even  in  the  condi- 
tions, he  was  aglow  with  admiration  for  the 
pluck  of  the  Belgians  in  standing  up  so 
valiantly  against  the  merciless  might  of  Ger- 
many. The  window  was  dust-laden  as  the  out- 
come of  earlier  gun-fire,  and  he  was  actually 
on  the  point  of  opening  it  when  Irene  stopped 
him. 

"Those  men  below  may  catch  sight  of  you," 
she  said. 

He  stepped  back  hurriedly.  Two  forage- 
carts  had  been  brought  into  the  yard,  and 
preparations  were  being  made  to  load  them 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  69 

with  oats  and  hay.  A  truculent-looking  ser- 
geant actually  lifted  his  eyes  to  that  particular 
window.  But  he  could  not  see  through  the 
dimmed  panes,  and  was  only  estimating  the 
mill's  probable  contents. 

Dalroy  laughed  constrainedly.  "You  are 
the  better  soldier  of  the  two,"  he  said.  "I 
nearly  blundered.  Still,  I  wish  the  window 
was  open.  I  want  to  size  up  the  chances  of  the 
Belgians.  Those  are  bigger  guns  which  are 
answering,  and  a  duel  between  big  guns  and 
little  ones  can  have  only  one  result." 

Seemingly,  the  German  battery  of  quick- 
firers  had  located  its  opponents,  because  the 
din  now  became  terrific.  As  though  in  response 
to  Dalroy 's  desire,  three  panes  of  glass  fell  out 
owing  to  atmospheric  concussion,  and  the 
watchers  in  the  loft  could  follow  with  ease  the 
central  phase  of  the  struggle.  The  noise  of 
the  battle  was  redoubled  by  the  accident  to  the 
window,  and  the  air-splitting  snarl  of  the  high- 
explosive  shells  fired  by  the  5.9 's  in  the  effort 
to  destroy  the  Belgian  guns  was  specially  deaf- 
ening. That  sound,  more  than  any  other, 
seemed  to  affect  Irene's  nerves.  Involuntarily 
she  clung  to  Dalroy 's  arm,  and  he,  with  no 
other  intent  than  to  reassure  her,  drew  her 
trembling  form  close. 

It  was  evident  that  the  assailants  were  suf- 
fering heavy  losses.  Scores  of  men  fell  every 
few  minutes  among  the  bridge-builders,  while 
casualties  were  frequent  among  the  troops  lin- 


70  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

ing  the  quays.  Events  on  the  Belgian  side  of 
the  river  were  not  so  marked;  but  even  Irene 
could  make  out  the  precise  moment  when  the 
defenders'  fire  slackened,  and  the  line  of  pon- 
toons began  to  reach  out  again  toward  the  far- 
ther shore. 

"Are  the  poor  Belgians  beaten,  then?"  she 
asked,  with  a  tender  sympathy  which  showed 
how  lightly  she  estimated  her  own  troubles  in 
comparison  with  the  agony  of  a  whole  nation. 

' '  I  think  not, ' '  said  Dalroy.  ' '  I  imagine  they 
have  changed  the  position  of  some,  at  least,  of 
their  guns,  and  will  knock  that  bridge  to 
smithereens  again  just  as  soon  as  it  nears 
completion. ' ' 

The  forage-carts  rumbled  out  of  the  yard. 
Dalroy  noticed  that  the  soldiers  wore  linen 
covers  over  the  somewhat  showy  Pickel-hauben, 
though  the  regiments  he  had  seen  in  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  swaggered  through  the  streets  in  their 
ordinary  helmets.  This  was  another  instance 
of  German  thoroughness.  The  invisibility  of 
the  gray-green  uniform  was  not  so  patent  when 
the  Pickel-haube  lent  its  glint,  but  no  sooner 
had  the  troops  crossed  the  frontier  than  the 
linen  cover  was  adjusted,  and  the  masses  of 
men  became  almost  merged  in  the  browns  and 
greens  of  the  landscape. 

The  two  were  so  absorbed  in  the  drama  being 
fought  out  before  their  eyes  that  they  were 
quite  startled  by  a  series  of  knocks  on  the 
boarded  floor.  Dalroy  crept  to  the  trap  door 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  71 

and  listened.  Then,  during  an  interval  between 
the  salvoes  of  artillery,  he  heard  Leontine's 
voice,  " Monsieur!  Mademoiselle!" 

He  pulled  up  the  trap.  Beneath  stood  Leon- 
tine,  with  a  long  pole  in  her  hands.  Beside 
her,  on  the  floor,  was  a  laden  tray. 

"I've  brought  you  something  to  eat,"  she 
said.  "Father  thinks  you  had  better  remain 
there  at  present.  The  Germans  say  they  will 
soon  cross  the  river,  as  they  intend  taking 
Liege  to-night." 

Not  until  they  had  eaten  some  excellent  rolls 
and  butter,  with  boiled  eggs,  and  drank  two 
cups  of  hot  coffee,  did  they  realise  how  rav- 
enously hungry  they  were.  Then  Dalroy  per- 
suaded Irene  to  lie  down  on  a  pile  of  sacks, 
and,  amid  all  the  racket  of  a  fierce  engage- 
ment, she  slept  the  sleep  of  sheer  exhaustion. 
Thus  he  was  left  on  guard,  as  it  were,  and  saw 
the  pontoons  once  more  demolished. 

After  that  he,  too,  curled  up  against  the  wall 
and  slept.  The  sound  of  rifle  shots  close  at 
hand  awoke  him.  His  first  care  was  for  the 
girl,  but  she  lay  motionless.  Then  he  looked 
out.  There  was  renewed  excitement  in  the 
main  road,  but  only  a  few  feet  of  it  was  visible 
from  the  attic.  A  number  of  women  and  chil- 
dren ran  past,  all  screaming,  and  evidently  in 
a  state  of  terror.  Several  houses  in  the  town 
were  on  fire,  and  the  smoke  hung  over  the  river 
in  such  clouds  as  to  obscure  the  north  bank. 

Old  Henri  Joos  came  hurriedly  into  the  yard. 


72  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

He  was  gesticulating  wildly,  and  Dalroy  heard 
a  door  bang  as  he  vanished.  Refusing  to  be 
penned  up  any  longer  without  news  of  what 
was  happening,  Dalroy  lowered  the  ladder,  and, 
after  ascertaining  that  Irene  was  still  asleep, 
descended.  He  made  his  way  to  the  kitchen, 
pausing  only  to  find  out  whether  or  not  it  held 
any  German  soldiers. 

Joos's  shrill  voice,  raised  in  malediction  of 
all  Prussians,  soon  decided  that  fact.  He  spoke 
in  the  local  patois,  but  straightway  branched 
off  into  French  interlarded  with  German  when 
Dalroy  appeared. 

* '  Those  hogs ! "  he  almost  screamed.  '  *  Those 
swine-dogs!  They  can't  beat  our  brave  boys 
of  the  3rd  Regiment,  so  what  do  you  think 
they're  doing  now?  Murdering  men,  women, 
and  children  out  of  mere  spite.  The  devils 
from  hell  pretended  that  the  townsfolk  were 
shooting  at  them,  so  they  began  to  stab,  and 
shoot,  and  burn  in  all  directions.  The  officers 
are  worse  than  the  men.  Three  came  here  in 
an  automobile,  and  marked  on  the  gate  that 
the  mill  was  not  to  be  burnt — they  want  my 
grain,  you  see — and,  as  they  were  driving  off 
again,  young  Jan  Smit  ran  by.  Poor  lad,  he 
was  breathless  with  fear.  They  asked  him  if 
he  had  seen  another  car  like  theirs,  but  he  could 
only  stutter.  One  of  them  laughed,  and  said, 
'I'll  work  a  miracle,  and  cure  him.'  Then  he 
whipped  out  a  revolver  and  shot  the  boy  dead. 
Some  soldiers  with  badges  on  their  arms  saw 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  VISE  73 

this.  One  of  them  yelled,  'Man  hat  geschossen' 
('The  people  have  been  shooting'),  though  it 
was  their  own  officer  who  fired,  and  he  and  the 
others  threw  little  bombs  into  the  nearest  cot- 
tages, and  squirted  petrol  in  through  the  win- 
dows. Madame  Didier,  who  has  been  bed- 
ridden for  years,  was  burnt  alive  in  that  way. 
They  have  a  regular  corps  of  men  for  the  job. 
Then,  'to  punish  the  town/  as  they  said,  they 
took  twenty  of  our  chief  citizens,  lined  them  up 
in  the  market-place,  and  fired  volleys  at  them. 
There  was  Dupont,  and  the  Abbe  Courvoisier, 
and  Monsieur  Philippe  the  notary,  and — ah, 
mon  Dieu,  I  don't  know — all  my  old  friends. 
The  Prussian  beasts  will  come  here  soon. — 
Wife!  Leontine!  how  can  I  save  you?  They 
are  devils — devils,  I  tell  you — devils  mad  with 
drink  and  anger.  A  few  scratches  in  chalk  on 
our  gate  won't  hold  them  back.  They  may  be 
here  any  moment.  You,  mademoiselle,  had 
better  go  with  Leontine  here  and  drown  your- 
selves in  the  mill  dam.  Heaven  help  me,  that 
is  the  only  advice  a  father  can  give!" 

Dalroy  turned.  Irene  stood  close  behind. 
She  knew  when  he  left  the  garret,  and  had  fol- 
lowed swiftly.  She  confessed  afterwards  that 
she  thought  he  meant  to  carry  out  his  self- 
denying  project,  and  leave  her. 

"You  are  mistaken,  Monsieur  Joos,"  she 
said  now,  speaking  with  an  aristocratic  calm 
which  had  an  immediate  effect  on  the  miller 
and  his  distraught  womenfolk.  "You  do  not 


74  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

know  the  German  soldier.  He  is  a  machine 
that  obeys  orders.  He  will  kill,  or  not  kill,  ex- 
actly as  he  is  bidden.  If  your  house  has  been 
excepted  it  is  absolutely  safe." 

She  was  right.  The  mill  was  one  of  the 
places  in  Vise  spared  by  German  malice  that 
day.  A  well-defined  section  of  the  little  town 
was  given  up  to  murder,  and  loot,  and  fire,  and 
rapine.  Scenes  were  enacted  which  are  in- 
describable. A  brutal  soldiery  glutted  its  worst 
passions  on  an  unarmed  and  defenceless  popu- 
lation. The  hour  was  near  when  some 
hysterical  folk  would  tell  of  the  apparition  of 
angels  at  Mons;  but  old  Henri  Joos  was  un- 
questionably right  when  he  spoke  of  the  pres- 
ence of  devils  in  Vise. 


CHAPTER  V 

BILLETS 

THE  miller's  volcanic  outburst  seemed  to  have 
exhausted  itself;  he  subsided  to  the  oaken 
bench,  leaned  forward,  elbows  on  knees,  and 
thrust  his  clenched  fists  against  his  ears  as 
though  he  would  shut  out  the  deafening  clamour 
of  the  guns.  This  attitude  of  dejection  evi- 
dently alarmed  Madame  Joos.  She  forgot  her 
own  fears  in  solicitude  for  her  husband.  Bend- 
ing over  him,  she  patted  his  shoulder  with  a 
maternal  hand,  since  every  woman  is  at  heart 
a  mother — a  mother  first  and  essentially. 

11  Maybe  the  lady  is  right,  Henri,"  she  said 
tenderly.  "  Young  as  she  is,  she  may  under- 
stand these  things  better  than  countryfolk  like 
us." 

"Ah,  Lise,"  he  moaned,  "you  would  have 
dropped  dead  had  you  seen  poor  Dupont.  He 
wriggled  for  a  long  minute  after  he  fell.  And 
the  Abbe,  with  his  white  hair!  Some  animal 
of  a  Prussian  fired  at  his  face.'* 

'  *  Don 't  talk  about  it, ' '  urged  his  wife.  "  It  is 
bad  for  you  to  get  so  excited.  Remember,  the 
doctor  warned  you " 

' '  The  doctor !  Dr.  Laf arge !  A  soldier  ham- 
mered on  the  surgery  door  with  the  butt  of  his 
rifle,  and,  when  the  doctor  came  out,  twirled 

75 


76  THE  DAY  OF  WKATH 

the  rifle  and  stabbed  him  right  through  the 
body.  I  saw  it.  It  was  like  a  conjuring  trick. 
I  was  giving  an  officer  some  figures  about  the 
contents  of  the  mill.  The  doctor  screamed,  and 
clutched  at  the  bayonet  with  both  hands.  And 
who  do  you  think  the  murderer  was!" 

Madame  Joos's  healthy  red  cheeks  had 
turned  a  ghastly  yellow,  but  she  contrived  to 
stammer,  "Dieu!  The  poor  doctor!  But  how 
should  I  know?" 

1  'The  barber,  Karl  Schwartz." 

"Karl  a  soldier!" 

"More,  a  sergeant.  He  lived  and  worked 
among  us  ten  years — a  spy.  It  was  the  doctor 
who  got  him  fined  for  beating  his  wife.  No 
wonder  Monsieur  Lafarge  used  to  say  there 
were  too  many  Germans  in  Belgium.  The 
officer  I  was  talking  to  watched  the  whole 
thing.  He  was  a  fat  man,  and  wore  spectacles 
for  writing.  He  lifted  them,  and  screwed  up 
his  eyes,  so,  like  a  pig,  to  read  the  letters  on 
the  brass  door-plate.  'Almachtig/'  he  said, 
grinning,  'a  successful  operation  on  a  doctor 
by  a  patient.'  I  saw  red.  I  felt  in  my  pocket 
for  a  knife.  I  meant  to  rip  open  his  paunch. 
Then  one  of  our  shells  burst  near  us,  and  he 
scuttled.  The  wind  of  the  explosion  knocked 
me  over,  so  I  came  home." 

The  two,  to  some  extent,  were  using  the  local 
patois;  but  their  English  hearers  understood 
nearly  every  word,  because  these  residents  on 
the  Belgian  border  mingle  French,  German, 


BILLETS  77 


and  a  Low  Dutch  dialect  almost  indiscrimi- 
nately. Dalroy  at  once  endeavoured  to  divert 
the  old  man's  thoughts.  The  massacre  which 
had  been  actually  permitted,  or  even  organ- 
ised, in  the  town  by  daylight  would  probably 
develop  into  an  orgy  that  night.  Not  one 
woman  now,  but  three,  required  protection.  He 
must  evolve  some  definite  plan  which  could  be 
carried  out  during  the  day,  because  the  hordes 
of  cavalry  pressing  toward  the  Meuse  would 
soon  deplete  Joos's  mill;  and  when  the  place 
ceased  to  be  of  value  to  the  commissariat  the 
protecting  order  would  almost  certainly  be  re- 
voked. Moreover,  Leontine  Joos  was  young  and 
fairly  attractive. 

In  a  word,  Dalroy  was  beginning  to  under- 
stand the  psychology  of  the  German  soldier  in 
war-time. 

"Let  us  think  of  the  immediate  future,"  he 
struck  in  boldly.  "You  have  a  wife  and  daugh- 
ter to  safeguard,  Monsieur  Joos,  while  I  have 
Mademoiselle  Beresford  on  my  hands.  Your 
mill  is  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Is  there 
no  village  to  the  west,  somewhere  out  of  the 
direct  line,  to  which  they  could  be  taken  for 
safety?" 

"The  west!"  growled  Joos,  springing  up 
again,  "isn't  that  where  these  savages  are  go- 
ing? That  is  the  way  to  Liege.  I  asked  the 
officer.  He  said  they  would  be  in  Liege  to-night, 
and  in  Paris  in  three  weeks." 

"Is  it  true  that  England  has  declared  war?" 


78  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"So  they  say.  But  the  Prussians  laugh. 
You  have  no  soldiers,  they  tell  us,  and  their 
fleet  is  nearly  as  strong  as  yours.  They  think 
they  have  caught  you  napping,  and  that  is  why 
they  are  coming  through  Belgium.  Paris  first, 
then  the  coast,  and  they've  got  you.  For  the 
love  of  Heaven,  monsieur,  is  it  true  that  you 
have  no  army?" 

Dalroy  was  stung  into  putting  Britain's  case 
in  the  best  possible  light.  "Not  only  have  we 
an  army,  every  man  of  which  is  worth  three 
Germans  at  a  fair  estimate ;  but  if  England  has 
come  into  this  war  she  will  not  cease  fighting 
until  Prussia  grovels  in  the  mud  at  her  feet. 
How  can  you,  a  Belgian,  doubt  England's  good 
faith?  Hasn't  England  maintained  your  nation 
in  freedom  for  eighty  years  I ' ' 

* '  True,  true !  But  the  Prussians  are  sure  of 
victory,  and  one's  heart  aches  when  one  sees 
them  sweep  over  the  land  like  a  pestilence.  I 
haven't  told  you  one-tenth " 

"Why  frighten  these  ladies  needlessly?  The 
gun-fire  is  bad  enough.  You  and  I  are  men, 
Monsieur  Joos.  We  must  try  and  save  our 
women. ' ' 

The  miller  was  spirited,  and  the  implied 
taunt  struck  home. 

"It's  all  very  well  talking  in  that  way,"  he 
cried;  "but  what's  going  to  happen  to  you  if  a 
German  sees  you?  Que  diable!  You  look  like 
an  Aachen  carriage-cleaner,  don't  you,  with 
your  officer  air  and  commanding  voice,  and  your 


BILLETS  79 

dandy  boots,  and  your  fine  clothes  showing  when 
the  workman's  smock  opens!  The  lady,  too,  in 
a  cheap  shawl,  wearing  a  blouse  and  skirt  that 
cost  hundreds  of  francs! — Leontine,  take  mon- 
sieur  " 

"Dalroy." 

"Take  Monsieur  Dalroy  to  Jan  Maertz's 
room,  and  let  him  put  on  Jan's  oldest  clothes 
and  a  pair  of  sabots.  Jan's  clogs  will  just 
about  fit  him.  And  give  mademoiselle  one  of 
your  old  dresses." 

He  whirled  round  on  Dalroy.  "What  became 
of  Jan  Maertz?  Did  the  Germans  really  kill 
him?  Tell  us  the  truth.  Leontine,  there,  had 
better  know." 

"I  think  he  is  safe,"  said  Dalroy.  "I  have 
already  explained  to  your  daughter  how  the  ac- 
cident came  about  which  separated  us.  Maertz 
was  pulled  out  of  the  driver's  seat  by  the  reins 
when  the  horses  plunged  and  upset  the  wagon. 
He  may  arrive  any  hour." 

"The  Germans  didn't  know,  then,  that  you 
and  the  lady  were  in  the  cart?" 

"No." 

"I  hope  Jan  hasn't  told  them.  That  would 
be  awkward.  But  what  matter?  You  talk  like 
a  true  man,  and  I'll  do  my  best  for  you.  It's 
nothing  but  nonsense  to  think  of  getting  away 
from  Vise  yet.  You're  a  Liegeois  whom  I  hired 
to  do  Jan's  work  while  he  went  to  Aix.  Every- 
body in  Vise  knows  he  went  there  four  days 
ago.  I  can't  lift  heavy  sacks  of  grain  at  my 


80  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

age,  and  I  must  have  a  man's  help.  You  see? 
Sharp,  now.  When  that  fat  fellow  gets  his  puff 
again  he'll  be  here  for  more  supplies.  And 
mind  you  don't  wash  your  face  and  hands. 
You're  far  too  much  of  a  gentleman  as  it  is." 

"One  moment,"  interrupted  Irene.  "I  want 
your  promise,  Captain  Dalroy,  that  you  will 
not  go  away  without  telling  me. ' ' 

She  could  not  guess  how  completely  old 
Joos's  broken  story  of  the  day's  events  in  Vise 
had  changed  Dalroy 's  intent. 

"I  would  as  soon  think  of  cutting  off  my  right 
hand,"  he  said. 

Their  eyes  met  and  clashed.  It  was  dark  in 
the  mill's  kitchen,  even  at  midday;  but  the  girl 
felt  that  the  tan  of  travel  and  exposure  on  her 
face  was  yielding  to  a  deep  crimson.  "Come, 
Leontine,"  she  cried  almost  gaily,  "show  me 
how  to  wear  one  of  your  frocks.  I'll  do  as  much 
for  you  some  day  in  London. ' ' 

"You  be  off,  too,"  growled  Joos  to  Dalroy. 
"When  the  Germans  come  they  must  see  you 
about  the  place." 

The  old  man  was  shrewd  in  his  way.  The 
sooner  these  strangers  became  members  of  the 
household  the  less  likely  were  they  to  attract 
attention. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  both  Dalroy  and 
Irene  were  back  in  the  kitchen,  and  clothed  in 
garments  fully  in  keeping  with  their  new  rules, 
when  a  commissariat  wagon  entered  the  yard. 
A  Bavarian  corporal  did  not  trouble  to  open  the 


BILLETS  81 

door  in  the  ordinary  way.  He  smashed  the 
latch  with  his  shoulder.  "Why  is  this  door 
closed?"  he  demanded  fiercely. 

"Monsieur "  began  Joos. 

'  *  Speak  German,  you  swine ! ' ' 

"I  forgot  the  order,  Herr  Kaporal.  As  you 
see,  it  was  only  on  the  latch. ' ' 

"Don't  let  it  happen  again.  Load  the  first 
wagon  with  hay  and  the  second  with  flour. 
While  you're  at  it,  these  women  can  cook  us  a 
meal.  Where  do  you  keep  your  wine?" 

"Everything  will  be  put  on  the  table,  mons — 
Herr  Kaporal." 

"None  of  your  lip! — Here,  you,  the  pretty 
one,  show  me  the  wine-cupboard.  I'll  make  my 
own  selection.  We  Bavarians  are  famous 
judges  of  good  wine  and  pretty  women,  let  me 
tell  you. ' ' 

The  corporal's  wit  was  highly  appreciated  by 
the  squad  of  four  men  who  accompanied  him. 
They  had  all  been  drinking.  It  is  a  notable 
fact  that  during  the  early  days  of  the  invasion 
of  Belgium  and  France — in  effect,  while  wine 
and  brandy  were  procurable  by  theft — the  army 
which  boasts  the  strictest  discipline  of  any  in 
the  world  was  unquestionably  the  most  drunken 
that  has  ever  waged  successful  war. 

Irene  was  "the  pretty  one"  chosen  as  guide 
by  this  hulking  connoisseur,  but  she  knew  how 
to  handle  boors  of  his  type. 

"You  must  not  talk  in  that  style  to  a  girl 
from  Berlin,"  she  said  icily.  "You  and  your 


82  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

men  will  take  what  is  given  you,  or  I'll  find 
your  oberleutnant,  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say 
about  it." 

She  spoke  purposely  in  perfect  German,  and 
the  corporal  was  vastly  surprised. 

''Pardon,  gnddiges  Fraulein,"  he  mumbled 
with  a  clumsy  bow.  "I  no  offence  meant.  We 
will  within  come  when  the  meal  is  ready. 
About — turn!"  The  enemy  was  routed. 

The  miller  and  his  man  worked  hard  until 
dusk.  The  fat  officer  turned  up,  and  lost  no 
opportunity  of  ogling  the  two  girls.  He  handed 
Joos  a  payment  docket,  which,  he  explained 
grandiolquently,  would  be  honoured  by  the 
military  authorities  in  due  course.  Joos  pock- 
eted the  document  with  a  sardonic  grin.  There 
was  some  fifteen  thousand  francs'  worth  of 
grain  and  forage  stored  on  the  premises,  and  he 
did  not  expect  to  see  a  centime  of  hard  cash 
from  the  Germans,  unless,  as  he  whispered 
grimly  to  Dalroy,  they  were  forced  to  pay 
double  after  the  war.  Meanwhile  the  place  was 
gutted.  Wagon  after  wagon  came  empty  and 
went  away  loaded. 

Driblets  of  news  were  received.  The  passage 
of  the  Meuse  had  been  achieved,  thanks  to  a 
flanking  movement  from  Argenteau.  Liege  had 
fallen  at  the  first  attack.  The  German  High 
Sea  Fleet  was  escorting  an  army  in  transports 
to  invade  England,  where,  meanwhile,  Zep- 
pelins were  destroying  London.  Vise,  having 
been  sufficiently  " punished"  for  a  first  offence, 


BILLETS  83 

would  now  be  spared  so  long  as  the  inhabitants 
"behaved  themselves."  If  a  second  "lesson" 
were  needed  it  would  be  something  to  re- 
member. 

The  first  and  last  of  these  items  were  correct, 
inasmuch  as  they  represented  events  and  defi- 
nite orders  affecting  the  immediate  neighbour- 
hood. Otherwise,  the  budget  consisted  of  ever 
more  daring  flights  of  Teutonic  imagination,  the 
crescendo  swelling  by  distance.  Liege  was  so 
far  from  having  fallen  that  the  7th  Division,  de- 
prived of  the  support  of  the  9th  and  10th  Di- 
visions, had  been  beaten  back  disastrously  from 
the  shallow  trenches  in  front  of  the  outer  girdle 
of  forts.  The  10th  was  about  to  share  the  same 
fate;  and  the  9th,  after  being  delayed  nearly 
three  days  by  the  glorious  resistance  offered 
by  the  Belgians  at  Vise,  was  destined  to  fare 
likewise.  But  rumour  as  to  the  instant  "cap- 
ture" of  Liege  was  not  rife  among  the  lower 
ranks  alone  of  the  German  army.  The  com- 
mander-in-chief  actually  telegraphed  the  news 
to  the  All-Highest  at  Aix ;  when  the  All-Highest 
discovered  the  truth  the  commander-in-chief  de- 
cided that  he  had  better  blow  his  brains  out,  and 
did. 

The  fact  was  that  the  overwhelming  horde 
of  invaders  could  not  be  kept  out  of  the  city  of 
Liege  by  the  hastily  mobilised  Belgian  army; 
but  the  heroic  governor,  General  Leman,  held 
the  ring  of  forts  intact  until  they  were  pulver- 
ised by  the  heavy  ordnance  of  which  Dalroy  had 


84  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

seen  two  specimens  during  the  journey  to  Co- 
logne. Many  days  were  destined  to  elapse  be- 
fore the  last  of  the  strongholds,  Fort  Loncin, 
crumbled  into  ruins  by  the  explosion  of  its  own 
magazine;  and  until  that  was  achieved  the 
mighty  army  of  Germany  dared  not  advance  an- 
other kilometre  to  the  west. 

When  the  Bavarian  corporal  had  gone 
through  every  part  of  the  house  and  outbuild- 
ings, and  satisfied  himself  that  the  only  stores 
left  were  some  potatoes  and  a  half -bag  of  flour, 
he  informed  the  miller  that  he  and  his  squad 
would  be  billeted  there  that  evening. 

"Your  pantry  is  bare,"  he  said,  "but  the  wine 
is  all  right,  so  we'll  bring  a  joint  which  we 
'planted'  this  morning.  Be  decent  about  the 
wine,  and  your  folk  can  have  a  cut  in,  too." 

Possibly  he  meant  to  be  civil,  and  there  was 
a  chance  that  the  night  might  pass  without  in- 
cident. Vise  itself  was  certainly  quiet  save  for 
the  unceasing  stream  of  troops  making  for  the 
pontoon  bridge.  The  fighting  seemed  to  have 
shifted  to  the  west  and  south-west,  and  Joos 
put  an  unerring  finger  on  the  situation  when  he 
said  pithily,  "Liege  is  making  a  deuce  of  a  row 
after  being  taken." 

* '  How  many  forts  are  there  around  the  city  ? ' ' 
inquired  Dalroy. 

"Twelve,  big  and  little.  Pontisse  and  Bar- 
chon  cover  the  Meuse  on  this  side,  and  Fleron 
and  Evegnee  bar  the  direct  road  from  Aix.  Un- 
less I  am  greatly  in  error,  monsieur,  the  Ger- 


BILLETS  85 

man  wolf  is  breaking  his  teeth  on  some  of  them 
at  this  minute." 

Liege  itself  was  ten  miles  distant;  Pontisse, 
the  nearest  fort,  though  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
river,  barely  six.  The  evening  was  still,  there 
being  only  a  slight  breeze  from  the  south-west, 
which  brought  the  loud  thunder  of  the  guns  and 
the  crackle  of  rifle-fire.  It  was  the  voice  of 
Belgium  proclaiming  to  the  high  gods  that  she 
was  worthy  of  life. 

The  Bavarians  came  with  their  "joint,"  a 
noble  piece  of  beef  hacked  off  a  whole  side 
looted  from  a  butcher 's  shop.  Madame  Joos 
cut  off  an  ample  quantity,  some  ten  pounds,  and 
put  it  in  the  oven.  The  girls  peeled  potatoes 
and  prepared  cabbages.  In  half-an-hour  the 
kitchen  had  an  appetising  smell  of  food  being 
cooked,  the  men  were  smoking,  and  a  casual 
visitor  would  never  have  resolved  the  gather- 
ing into  its  constituent  elements  of  irreconcila- 
ble national  hatreds. 

The  corporal  even  tried  to  make  amends  for 
having  damaged  the  door.  He  examined  the 
broken  latch.  "It's  a  small  matter,"  he  said 
apologetically.  "You  can  repair  it  for  a  trifle; 
and,  in  any  case,  you  will  sleep  all  the  better 
that  we  are  here." 

Though  somewhat  maudlin  with  liquor,  he 
was  very  much  afraid  of  the  "girl  from  Ber- 
lin." He  could  not  sum  her  up,  but  meant  to 
behave  himself;  while  his  men,  of  course,  fol- 
lowed his  lead  unquestioningly. 


86  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Dalroy  kept  in  the  background.  He  listened, 
but  said  hardly  anything.  The  turn  of  for- 
tune's wheel  was  distinctly  favourable.  If  the 
night  ended  as  it  had  begun  there  was  a  chance 
that  he  and  Irene  might  slip  away  to  the  Dutch 
frontier  next  morning,  since  he  had  ascertained 
definitely  that  Holland  was  secure  for  the  time, 
and  was  impartially  interning  all  combatants, 
either  Germans  or  Belgians,  who  crossed  the 
border.  At  this  time  he  was  inclined  to 
abandon  his  own  project  of  striving  to  steal 
through  the  German  lines.  He  was  somewhat 
weary,  too,  after  the  unusual  labour  of  carrying 
heavy  sacks  of  grain  and  flour  down  steep  lad- 
ders or  lowering  them  by  a  pulley.  Thus,  he 
dozed  off  in  a  corner,  but  was  aroused  sud- 
denly by  the  entry  of  the  commissariat  officer 
and  three  subalterns.  With  them  came  an 
orderly,  who  dumped  a  laden  basket  and  a  case 
of  champagne  on  the  floor. 

The  corporal  and  his  satellites  sprang  to 
attention. 

The  fat  man  took  the  salute,  and  glanced 
around  the  kitchen.  Then  he  sniffed.  "What! 
roast  beef?"  he  said.  "The  men  fare  better 
than  the  officers,  it  would  seem.— Be  off,  you ! ' ' 

"Herr  Major,  we  are  herein  billeted,"  stut- 
tered the  corporal. 

"Be  off,  I  tell  you,  and  take  these  Belgian 
swine  with  you!  I  make  my  quarters  here  to- 
night." 

Joos,  of  course,  he  recognised ;  and  the  miller 


BILLETS  87 

said,  with  some  dignity,  that  the  gentlemen 
would  be  made  as  comfortable  as  his  resources 
permitted,  but  he  must  remain  in  his  own  house. 

The  fat  man  stared  at  him,  as  though  such 
insolence  were  unheard-of.  "Here,"  he  roared 
to  the  corporal,  "  pitch  this  old  hog  into  the 
Meuse.  He  annoys  me." 

Meanwhile,  one  of  the  younger  officers,  a 
strapping  Westphalian,  lurched  toward  Irene. 
She  did  not  try  to  avoid  him,  thinking,  per- 
haps, that  a  passive  attitude  was  advisable. 
He  caught  her  by  the  waist,  and  guffawed  to 
his  companions,  "Didn't  I  offer  to  bet  you  fel- 
lows that  Busch  never  made  a  mistake  about  a 
woman?  Who'd  have  dreamed  of  finding  a 
beauty  like  this  one  in  a  rotten  old  mill  f ' ' 

The  Bavarians  had  collected  their  rifles  and 
sidearms,  and  were  going  out  sullenly.  Each 
of  the  officers  carried  a  sword  and  revolver. 

Irene  saw  that  Dalroy  had  risen  in  his  corner. 
She  wrenched  herself  free.  *  *  How  am  I  to  pre- 
pare supper  for  you  gentlemen  if  you  bother 
me  in  this  way?"  she  demanded  tartly. 

"Behave  yourself,  Fritz,"  puffed  the  major. 
"Is  that  your  idea  of  keeping  your  word? 
Mama,  if  she  is  discreet,  will  go  to  bed,  and 
the  young  ones  will  eat  with  us. — Open  that 
case  of  wine,  orderly.  I'm  thirsty. — The  girls 
will  have  a  drink  too.  Cooking  is  warm  work. 
— Hallo !  What  the  devil !  Kaporal,  didn't  you 
hear  my  order?" 

Dalroy  grabbed  Joos,  who  was  livid  with 


88  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

rage.  The  two  girls  were  safe  for  the  hour,  and 
must  endure  the  leering  of  four  tipsy  scoun- 
drels. A  row  at  the  moment  would  be  the  wild- 
est folly. 

"March!"  he  said  gruffly.  "The  oberleut- 
nant  doesn't  want  us  here." 

"Le  brave  Beige  knows  when  to  clear  out," 
grinned  one  of  the  younger  men,  giving  Dalroy 
an  odiously  suggestive  wink. 

Somehow,  the  fact  that  Dalroy  took  command 
abated  the  women's  terror;  even  the  intracta- 
ble Joos  yielded.  Soon  the  two  were  in  the 
yard  with  the  dispossessed  Bavarians,  these 
latter  being  in  the  worst  of  temper,  as  they  had 
now  to  search  for  both  bed  and  supper.  They 
strode  away  without  giving  the  least  heed  to 
their  presumed  prisoners. 

Joos,  like  most  men  of  choleric  disposition, 
was  useless  in  a  crisis  of  this  sort.  He  gibbered 
with  rage.  He  wanted  to  attack  the  intruders 
at  once  with  a  pitchfork. 

Dalroy  shook  him  to  quieten  his  tongue. 
"You  must  listen  to  me,"  he  said  sternly. 

The  old  man's  eyes  gleamed  up  into  his.  In 
the  half-light  of  the  gloaming  they  had  the 
sheen  of  polished  gold.  '  *  Monsieur, ' '  he  whim- 
pered, "save  my  little  girl!  Save  her,  I  im- 
plore you.  You  English  are  lions  in  battle. 
Yon  are  big  and  strong.  I'll  help.  Between  us 
we  can  stick  the  four  of  them." 

Dalroy  shook  him  again.  *  *  Stop  talking,  and 
listen,"  he  growled  wrathfully.  "Not  another 


BILLETS  89 

word  here!  Come  this  way!"  He  drew  the 
miller  into  an  empty  stable,  whence  the  kitchen 
door  and  the  window  were  in  view.  "Now,"  he 
muttered,  "gather  your  wits,  and  answer  my 
questions.  Have  you  any  hidden  weapons?  A 
pitchfork  is  too  awkward  for  a  fight  in  a  room." 

"I  had  nothing  but  a  muzzle-loading  gun, 
monsieur.  I  gave  it  up  on  the  advice  of  the 
burgomaster.  They  Ve  killed  him. ' ' 

"Very  well.  Remain  here  on  guard.  I'll  go 
and  fetch  a  rifle  and  bayonet.  Nothing  will 
happen  to  the  women  till  these  brutes  have 
eaten,  and  have  more  wine  in  them.  Don't  you 
understand?  The  younger  men  have  made  a 
hellish  compact  with  their  senior.  You  heard 
that,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  yes,  monsieur.  Who  could  fail  to  know 
what  they  meant?  Surely  the  good  God  sent 
you  to  Vise  to-day ! ' ' 

"Promise,  now!  No  interference  till  I  re- 
turn, even  though  the  women  are  frightened. 
You'll  only  lose  your  life  to  no  purpose.  I'll 
not  be  long  away." 

"I  promise.  But,  monsieur,  pour  I' amour  de 
Dieu,  let  me  stick  that  fat  Busch!" 

Dalroy  was  in  such  a  fume  to  secure  a  reliable 
arm  that  he  rather  neglected  the  precautions  of 
a  soldier  moving  through  the  enemy's  country. 
It  was  still  possible  to  see  clearly  for  some 
distance  ahead.  Although  the  right  bank  of 
the  Meuse  that  night  was  overrun  with  the 
Kaiser's  troops  along  a  front  of  nearly  twenty 


90  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

miles,  the  ravine,  with  its  gurgling  rivulet,  was 
one  of  those  peaceful  oases  which  will  occur  in 
the  centre  of  the  most  congested  battlefield. 
Now  that  the  crash  of  the  guns  had  passed 
sullenly  to  a  distance,  white-tailed  rabbits 
scurried  across  the  path;  some  stray  sheep, 
driven  from  the  uplands  by  the  day's  tumult, 
gathered  in  a  group  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
the  intruder ;  a  weasel,  stalking  a  selected  rabbit 
as  is  his  piratical  way,  elected  to  abandon  the 
chase  and  leap  for  a  tree. 

These  very  signs  showed  that  none  other  had 
breasted  the  slope  recently,  so  Dalroy  strode 
out  somewhat  carelessly.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
endowed  with  no  small  measure  of  that  sixth 
sense  which  every  shikari  must  possess  who 
would  hunt  either  his  fellowmen  or  the  beasts 
of  the  jungle.  He  was  passing  a  dense  clump 
of  brambles  and  briars  when  a  man  sprang  at 
him.  He  had  trained  himself  to  act  promptly 
in  such  circumstances,  and  had  decided  long 
ago  that  to  remain  on  the  same  ground,  or  even 
try  to  retreat,  was  courting  disaster.  His  plan 
was  to  jump  sideways,  and,  if  practicable,  a 
little  nearer  an  assailant.  The  sabots  rendered 
him  less  nimble  than  usual,  but  the  dodge  quite 
disconcerted  an  awkward  opponent.  The 
vicious  downward  sweep  of  a  heavy  cudgel  just 
missed  his  left  shoulder,  and  he  got  home  with 
the  right  in  a  half -arm  jab  which  sent  the  re- 
cipient sprawling  and  nearly  into  the  stream. 

Dalroy  made  after  him,  seized  the  fallen 


BILLETS  91 

stick,  and  recognised — Jan  Maertz!  "How 
now,"  he  said  wrathfully,  "are  you,  too,  a 
Prussian?" 

Jan  raised  a  hand  to  ward  off  the  expected 
blow.  "Caput!"  he  cried.  "I'm  done!  You 
must  be  the  devil!  But  may  the  Lord  help 
my  poor  master  and  mistress,  and  the  little 
Leontine ! ' ' 

"That  is  my  wish  also,  sheep's  head!  What 
evil  have  I  done  you,  then,  that  you  should  want 
to  brain  me  at  sight?" 

"They're  after  you — the  Germans.  They 
mean  to  catch  you,  dead  or  alive.  A  lieutenant 
of  the  Guard  pulled  me  away  from  in  front  of 
a  firing-party,  and  gave  me  my  life  on  condi- 
tion that  I  ran  you  down." 

Here  was  an  extraordinary  development.  It 
was  vitally  important  that  Dalroy  should  get 
to  know  the  exact  meaning  of  the  Walloon's 
disjointed  utterances,  yet  how  could  he  wait 
and  question  the  man  while  the  Prussian  sultans 
were  feasting  in  the  mill? 

Dalroy  stooped  over  Maertz,  who  had  risen 
to  his  knees,  and  caught  him  by  the  shoulder. 
"Jan  Maertz,"  he  said,  "do  you  hope  to  marry 
Leontine  Joos?  If  so,  Heaven  has  just  pre- 
vented you  from  committing  a  great  crime. 
She,  and  her  mother,  and  the  lady  who  came 
with  me  from  Aix,  are  in  the  mill  with  four 
German  officers — a  set  of  foul,  drunken  brutes 
who  will  stop  at  no  excess.  I'm  going  now  to 
get  a  rifle.  You  make  quietly  for  the  stable 


92  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

opposite  the  kitchen  door.  You  will  find  Joos 
there.  He  will  explain.  Tell  me,  are  you  for 
Belgium  or  Germany  in  this  war  f ' ' 

The  Walloon  might  be  slow-witted,  but 
Dalroy 's  words  seemed  to  have  pierced  his  skin. 

"For  Belgium,  monsieur,  to  the  death,"  he 
answered. 

"So  am  I.  I'm  an  Englishman.  As  you  go, 
think  what  that  means." 

Leaving  Maertz  to  regain  his  feet  and  the 
stick,  Dalroy  rushed  on  up  the  hill.  The  un- 
expected struggle  had  cost  him  but  little  delay ; 
yet  it  was  dark,  and  the  miller  was  nearly 
frantic  with  anxiety,  when  he  returned. 

"Is  Maertz  with  you?"  was  his  first  ques- 
tion. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  came  a  gruff  voice  out  of 
the  gloom  of  the  stable. 

"Do  you  know  now  how  nearly  you  blun- 
dered?" 

* '  Monsieur,  I  would  have  tackled  St.  Peter  to 
save  Leontine." 

'  *  Quick ! ' '  hissed  Joos, ' ( let  us  kill  these  hogs  1 
We  have  no  time  to  spare.  The  others  will  be 
here  soon." 

"What  others?" 

"Jan  will  tell  you  later.  Come,  now.  Leave 
Busch  to  me ! " 

"Keep  quiet!"  ordered  Dalroy  sternly. 
"We  cannot  murder  four  men  in  cold  blood. 
I'll  listen  over  there  by  the  window.  You  two 
remain  here  till  I  call  you." 


BILLETS  93 

But  there  was  no  need  for  eavesdropping. 
Leontine's  voice  was  raised  shrilly  above  the 
loud-clanging  talk  and  laughter  of  the  unin- 
vited guests.  "No,  no,  my  mother  must  stay !" 
she  was  shrieking.  "Monsieur,  for  God's  sake, 
leave  my  mother  alone!  Ah,  you  are  hurting 
her. — Father!  father! — Oh,  what  shall  we  do? 
Is  there  no  one  to  help  us?" 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   FIGHT   IN   THE   MILL 

As  Dalroy  burst  open  the  door,  which  was 
locked,  the  heartrending  screams  of  the  three 
women  mingled  with  the  vile  oaths  of  their 
assailants.  He  had  foreseen  that  the  door 
would  probably  be  fastened,  and  put  his  whole 
strength  into  the  determination  to  force  the 
bolt  without  warning.  The  scene  which  met 
his  eyes  as  he  rushed  into  the  room  was  etched 
in  Rembrandt  lights  and  shadows  by  a  lamp 
placed  in  the  centre  of  the  table. 

Near  a  staircase — not  that  which  led  to  the 
lofts,  but  the  main  stairway  of  the  domestic 
part  of  the  dwelling — Madame  Joos  was  strug- 
gling in  the  grip  of  the  orderly  and  one  of  the 
lieutenants.  Another  of  these  heroes — they  all 
belonged  to  a  Westphalian  detachment  of  the 
commissariat — was  endeavouring  to  overpower 
Irene.  His  left  arm  pinned  her  left  arm  to  her 
waist;  his  right  arm  had  probably  missed  a 
similar  hold,  because  the  girl's  right  arm  was 
free.  She  had  seized  his  wrist,  and  was  striv- 
ing to  ward  off  a  brutal  effort  to  prevent  her 
from  shrieking.  Busch,  that  stout  satyr,  was 
seated.  Dalroy  learnt  subsequently  that  the 
sudden  hubbub  arose  because  Irene  resisted  his 
attempt  to  pull  her  on  to  his  knee.  The  last  of 

94 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  95 

the  younger  men  was  clasping  Leontine  to  his 
breast  with  rascally  intent  to  squeeze  the 
breath  out  of  her  until  she  was  unable  to  strug- 
gle further. 

Now  Dalroy  had  to  decide  in  the  fifth  part  of 
a  second  whence  danger  would  first  come,  and 
begin  the  attack  there.  The  four  officers  had 
laid  aside  their  swords,  but  the  lieutenants 
had  retained  belts  and  revolvers.  Busch,  as 
might  be  expected,  was  only  too  pleased  to  get 
rid  of  his  equipment.  His  tunic  was  unbut- 
toned, so  that  he  might  gorge  at  ease.  Some- 
how, Dalroy  knew  that  Irene  would  not  free 
the  hand  which  was  now  closing  on  her  mouth. 
The  two  Walloons  carried  short  forks  with  four 
prongs — Joos  had  taken  to  heart  the  English- 
man's comment  on  the  disadvantage  of  a  pitch- 
fork for  close  fighting — and  Jan  Maertz  might 
be  trusted  to  deal  with  the  ruffian  who  was 
nearly  strangling  Leontine.  There  remained 
the  gallant  lieutenant  whose  sense  of  humour 
permitted  the  belief  that  the  best  way  to  force 
onward  a  terrified  elderly  woman  was  to  plant 
a  knee  against  the  small  of  her  back.  He  had 
looked  around  at  once  when  the  door  flew  open, 
and  his  right  hand  was  already  on  the  butt  of 
an  automatic  pistol.  Him,  therefore,  Dalroy 
bayoneted  so  effectually  that  a  startled  oath 
changed  into  a  dreadful  howl  ere  the  words  left 
his  lips.  The  orderly  happened  to  be  nearer 
than  the  officer,  so,  as  the  bayonet  did  its  work, 
Dalroy  kicked  the  lout's  feet  from  under  him, 


96  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

and  thrust  him  through  the  body  while  on  the 
floor.  A  man  who  had  once  won  the  Dholepur 
Cup,  which  is  competed  for  by  the  most  famous 
pig-stickers  in  India,  knew  how  to  put  every 
ounce  of  weight  behind  the  keen  point  of  a  lance, 
because  an  enraged  boar  is  the  quickest  and 
most  courageous  fighter  among  all  the  fierce 
creatures  of  the  jungle.  But  he  was  slightly  too 
near  his  quarry ;  the  bayonet  reached  the  stone 
floor  through  the  man's  body,  and  snapped  at 
the  forte. 

Then  he  wheeled,  and  made  for  Irene's 
assailant. 

The  instant  Dalroy  appeared  at  the  door  the 
girl  had  caught  the  Prussian's  thumb  in  her 
strong  teeth,  and  not  only  bit  him  to  the  bone 
but  held  on.  With  a  loud  bellow  of  "Help! 
Come  quickly!"  he  released  her,  and  struck 
fiercely  with  his  left  hand.  Yet  this  gentle  girl, 
who  had  never  taken  part  in  any  more  violent 
struggle  than  a  school  romp,  had  the  presence 
of  mind  to  throw  herself  backward,  and  thus 
discount  the  blow,  while  upsetting  her  adver- 
sary's balance.  But  her  clenched  teeth  did  not 
let  go.  It  came  out  long  afterwards  that  she 
was  a  first-rate  gymnast.  One  day,  moved  by 
curiosity  on  seeing  some  performance  in  a  cir- 
cus, she  had  essayed  the  stage  trick  of  hanging 
head  downward  from  a  cross-bar,  and  twirling 
around  another  girl's  body  girdled  by  a  strap 
working  on  a  swivel  attached  to  a  strong  pad 
which  she  bit  resolutely.  Then  she  discovered 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  97 

a  scientific  fact  which  very  few  people  are 
aware  of.  The  jaw  is,  perhaps,  the  strongest 
part  of  the  human  frame,  and  can  exercise  a 
power  relatively  far  greater  than  that  of  the 
hands.  Of  course,  she  could  not  have  held  out 
for  long,  but  she  did  thwart  and  delay  the 
maddened  Prussian  during  two  precious  sec- 
onds. Even  when  he  essayed  to  choke  her  she 
still  contrived  to  save  herself  by  seizing  his 
free  hand. 

By  that  time  Dalroy  had  leaped  to  the  rescue. 
Shortening  the  rifle  in  the  way  familiar  to  all 
who  have  practised  the  bayonet  exercise,  he 
drove  it  against  the  Prussian's  neck.  The 
jagged  stump  inflicted  a  wound  which  looked 
worse  than  it  was;  but  the  mere  shock  of  the 
blow  robbed  the  man  of  his  senses,  and  he  fell 
like  a  log. 

In  order  to  come  within  striking  distance, 
Dalroy  had  to  jump  over  Busch.  Old  Joos, 
piping  in  a  weird  falsetto,  had  sprung  at  the 
fat  major  and  spitted  him  in  the  stomach  with 
all  four  prongs  of  the  fork.  Busch  toppled 
over  backward  with  a  fearsome  howl,  the  chair 
breaking  under  his  weight  combined  with  a 
frantic  effort  to  escape.  The  miller  went  with 
him,  and  dug  the  terrible  weapon  into  his  soft 
body  as  though  driving  it  into  a  truss  of  straw. 
Maertz,  a  lusty  fellow,  had  made  shorter  work 
of  his  man,  because  one  prong  had  reached 
the  German's  heart,  and  he  was  stilled  at 
once.  But  Joos  thrust  and  thrust  again, 


98  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

even  using  a  foot  to  bury  the  fork  to  its 
shoulder. 

This  was  the  most  ghastly  part  of  a  thrilling 
episode.  Busch  writhed  on  the  floor,  screaming 
shrilly  for  mercy,  and  striving  vainly  to  stay 
with  his  hands  the  deadly  implement  from  eat- 
ing into  his  vitals. 

That  despairing  effort  gave  the  miller  a 
ghoulish  satisfaction.  "Aha!"  he  chortled, 
"you  laughed  at  Lafarge!  Laugh  now,  you 
swine!  That's  for  the  doctor,  and  that's  for 
my  wife,  and  that's  for  my  daughter,  and 
that's  for  me!" 

Dalroy  did  not  attempt  to  stop  him.  These 
men  must  die.  They  had  come  to  the  mill  to 
destroy;  it  was  just  retribution  that  they  them- 
selves should  be  destroyed.  His  coolness  in 
this  crisis  was  not  the  least  important  factor  in 
a  situation  rife  with  peril.  His  method  of 
attack  had  converted  a  fight  against  heavy  odds 
into  a  speedy  and  most  effectual  slaughter. 
But  that  was  only  the  beginning.  Even  while 
the  frenzied  yelling  of  the  squirming  Busch  was 
subsiding  into  a  frothy  gurgle  he  went  to  the 
door  and  listened.  A  battery  of  artillery  was 
passing  at  a  trot,  and  creating  din  enough  to 
drown  the  cries  of  a  hundred  Busches. 

He  looked  back  over  his  shoulder.  Madame 
Joos  was  on  her  knees,  praying.  The  poor 
woman  had  no  thought  but  that  her  last  hour 
had  come.  Happily,  she  was  spared  the  sight 
of  her  husband's  vengeance.  Happily,  too, 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  99 

none  of  the  women  fainted.  Leontine  was  pant- 
ing and  sobbing  in  Maertz's  arms.  Irene,  lean- 
ing against  the  wall  near  the  fireplace,  was 
gazing  now  at  Joos,  now  at  the  fallen  man  at 
her  feet,  now  at  Dalroy.  But  her  very  soul 
was  on  fire.  She,  too,  had  yielded  to  the  mad- 
ness of  a  life-and-death  struggle.  Her  eyes 
were  dilated.  Her  bosom  rose  and  fell  with 
laboured  breathing.  Her  teeth  were  still 
clenched,  her  lips  parted  as  though  she  dreaded 
to  find  some  loathsome  taste  on  them. 

Maertz  seemed  to  have  retained  his  senses,  so 
Dalroy  appealed  to  him.  "Jan,"  he  said 
quietly, ' '  we  must  go  at  once.  Get  your  master 
and  the  others  outside.  Then  extinguish  the 
lamp.  Hurry !  We  haven 't  a  second  to  spare. ' ' 

Joos  heard.  Satisfied  now  that  the  fork  had 
been  effective,  he  straightened  his  small  body 
and  said  shrilly,  "You  go,  if  you  like.  I'll  not 
leave  my  money  to  be  burnt  with  my  house. — 
Now,  wife,  stir  yourself.  Where's  that 
key?" 

The  familiar  voice  roused  Madame  Joos  from 
a  stupor  of  fear.  She  fumbled  in  her  bodice, 
and  produced  a  key  attached  to  a  chain  of  fine 
silver.  Her  husband  mounted  nimbly  on  a 
chair,  ran  a  finger  along  one  of  the  heavy  beams 
which  roofed  the  kitchen,  found  a  cunningly 
hidden  keyhole,  and  unlocked  a  long,  narrow 
receptacle  which  had  been  scooped  out  of  the 
wood.  A  more  ingenious,  accessible,  yet  un- 
likely hiding-place  for  treasure  could  not  read- 


100  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

ily  be  imagined.  He  took  out  a  considerable 
sum  of  money  in  notes,  gold,  and  silver. 
Though  a  man  of  wealth,  with  a  substantial 
account  in  the  state  bank,  he  still  retained  the 
peasant's  love  of  a  personal  hoard. 

Stowing  away  the  money  in  various  pockets, 
Joos  got  down  off  the  chair.  Busch  was  dy- 
ing, but  he  was  not  unconscious.  He  had  even 
watched  the  miller's  actions  with  a  certain  de- 
tached curiosity,  and  the  old  fellow  seemed  to 
become  aware  of  the  fact.  "So,"  he  cackled, 
"you  saw,  did  you?  That  should  annoy  you  in 
your  last  hour,  you  fat  thief. — Yes,  yes,  mon- 
sieur, I'll  come  now. — Leontine,  stop  blubbing, 
and  tie  up  that  piece  of  beef  and  some  bread 
in  a  napkin.  We  fighting  men  must  eat. — Jan, 
put  the  bottles  of  champagne  and  the  pork-pie 
in  a  basket. — Leontine,  run  and  get  your  own 
and  your  mother's  best  shoes.  You  can  change 
them  in  the  wood." 

"What  wood?"  put  in  Maertz. 

"We  can't  walk  to  Maestricht  by  the  main 
road,  you  fool." 

"That's  all  right  for  you  and  madame  here, 
and  for  Leontine,  perhaps.  But  I  remain  in 
Belgium.  My  friends  are  fighting  yonder  at 
Liege,  and  I'm  going  to  join  them.  And  these 
others  mustn't  try  it.  The  frontier  is  closed 
for  them.  I  was  offered  my  life  only  two  hours 
ago  if  I  arrested  them." 

"Jan!"  cried  Leontine  indignantly. 

"It 's  true.    Why  should  I  tell  a  lie?    I  didn't 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  101 

understand  then  the  sort  of  game  the  Prussians 
are  playing.  Now  that  I  know " 

"Miss  Beresford,"  broke  in  Dalroy  em- 
phatically, "if  these  good  people  will  not  es- 
cape when  they  may  we  must  leave  them  to 
their  fate." 

"Do  come,  Monsieur  Joos,"  said  Irene, 
speaking  for  the  first  time  since  the  tragedy. 
"By  remaining  here  you  risk  your  life  to  no 
purpose." 

"We  are  coming  now,  ma'm'selle." 

Suddenly  the  miller's  alert  eye  was  caught 
by  a  spasmodic  movement  in  the  limbs  of  the 
last  man  whom  Dalroy  struck  down.  "Tiens!" 
he  cried,  "that  fellow  isn't  finished  with  yet." 

He  was  making  for  the  prostrate  form  with 
that  terrible  fork  when  Dalroy  ran  swiftly,  and 
collared  him.  "Stop  that!"  came  the  angry 
command.  "A  fair  fight  must  not  degenerate 
into  murder.  Out  you  get  now,  or  I'll  throw 
you  out!" 

Joos  laughed.  "Yon 're  making  a  mistake, 
monsieur,"  he  said.  "These  Prussians  don't 
fight  that  way.  They'd  kill  you  just  for  the 
fun  of  the  thing  if  you  were  tied  hand  and  foot. 
But  let  the  rascal  live  if  it  pleases  you.  As 
for  this  one,"  and  he  spurned  Busch's  body 
with  his  foot,  "he's  done.  Did  you  hear  him? 
He  squealed  like  a  pig." 

Dalroy  was  profoundly  relieved  when  the 
automatic  pistols  and  ammunition  were  col- 
lected, the  lamp  extinguished,  the  door  closed, 


102  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

and  the  whole  party  had  passed  through  a 
garden  and  orchard  to  the  gloom  of  the  ravine. 
The  hour  was  about  half -past  eight  o'clock. 
Twenty-four  hours  earlier  he  and  Irene  were 
about  to  leave  Cologne  by  train,  believing  with 
some  degree  of  confidence  that  they  might  be 
allowed  to  cross  the  frontier  without  let  or 
hindrance!  Life  was  then  conventional,  with 
a  spice  of  danger.  Now  it  had  descended  in  the 
social  scale  until  they  ranked  on  a  par  with 
the  dog  that  had  gone  mad  and  must  be  slain 
at  sight.  The  German  code  of  war  is  a  legal 
paraphrase  of  the  trickster's  formula,  " Heads 
I  win,  tails  you  lose."  The  armies  of  the 
Fatherland  are  ordered  to  practise  *  'frightful- 
ness,"  and  so  terrorise  the  civil  population  that 
the  inhabitants  of  the  stricken  country  will 
compel  their  rulers  to  sue  for  peace  on  any 
terms.  But  woe  to  that  same  civil  population 
if  some  small  section  of  its  members  resists  or 
avenges  any  act  of  "frightfulness."  Soldiers 
might  murder  the  Widow  Jacquinot  and  ravish 
her  granddaughter,  officers  might  plan  a  bestial 
orgy  in  the  miller's  house;  but  Dalroy  and 
Joos  and  Maertz,  in  punishing  the  one  set  of 
crimes  and  preventing  another,  had  placed 
themselves  outside  the  law.  Neither  Joos  nor 
Maertz  cared  a  farthing  rushlight  about  the 
moral  consequences  of  that  deadly  struggle  in 
the  kitchen,  but  Dalroy  was  in  different  case. 
He  knew  the  certain  outcome.  Small  wonder 
if  his  heart  was  heavy  and  his  brow  seamed. 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  103 

His  own  fate  was  of  slight  concern,  since  he 
had  ceased  to  regard  life  as  worth  more  than 
an  hour's  purchase  at  any  time  from  the  mo- 
ment he  leaped  down  into  the  station  yard  at 
Aix-la-Chapelle.  But  it  was  hard  luck  that  the 
accident  of  mere  association  should  have 
bound  up  Irene  Beresford's  fortunes  so  irre- 
vocably with  his.  Was  there  no  way  out  of  the 
maze  in  which  they  were  wandering?  What, 
for  instance,  had  Jan  Maertz  meant  by  his 
cryptic  statements? 

"We  must  halt  here,"  Dalroy  said  authori- 
tatively, stopping  short  in  the  shadow  of  a 
small  clump  of  trees  on  the  edge  of  the  ravine, 
a  place  whence  there  was  a  fair  field  of  view, 
yet  so  close  to  dense  brushwood  that  the  best 
of  cover  was  available  instantly  if  needed. 

"Why?"  demanded  Joos.  "I  know  every 
inch  of  the  way. ' ' 

"I  want  to  question  Maertz,"  said  Dalroy 
shortly.  "But  don't  let  me  delay  you  on  that 
account.  Indeed,  I  advise  you  to  go  ahead,  and 
safeguard  Madame  Joos  and  your  daughter.  I 
would  even  persuade,  if  I  can,  Mademoiselle 
Beresford  to  go  with  you." 

"I  don't  mind  listening  to  Jan's  yarn  my- 
self," grunted  the  miller.  "And  isn't  it  time 
we  had  some  supper?  Killing  Prussians  is 
hungry  work.  Did  you  hear  Busch?  He 
squealed  like  a  pig. — Leontine,  cut  some  chunks 
of  beef  and  bread,  and  open  one  of  these  bot- 
tles of  wine." 


104  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

There  was  solid  sense  in  the  old  man 's  crude 
rejoinder.  Criminals  about  to  suffer  the  death 
penalty  often  enjoy  a  good  meal.  These  six 
people,  who  had  just  escaped  death,  or — where 
the  women  were  concerned — a  degradation 
worse  than  death,  and  before  whose  feet  the 
grave  might  yawn  wide  and  deep  at  once  and 
without  warning,  were  nevertheless  greatly  in 
want  of  food. 

So  they  ate  as  they  talked. 

Maertz's  story  was  coherent  enough  when 
set  forth  in  detail.  He  was  dazed  and  shaken 
by  the  fall  from  the  wagon ;  but,  helped  by  the 
sentry,  who  bore  witness  that  the  collision  was 
no  fault  of  his,  being  the  outcome  of  obedience 
to  the  officer's  order,  he  contrived  to  calm  the 
startled  horses.  The  officer  even  offered  to 
find  a  few  men  later  who  would  help  to  pull 
the  wagon  out  of  the  ditch,  so  Jan  was  told  to 
''stand  by'*  until  the  column  had  passed. 
Meaning  no  harm,  he  asked  what  had  become 
of  his  passengers.  This  naturally  evoked  other 
questions,  and  a  search  was  made,  with  the  re- 
sult that  the  lamp  and  Dalroy's  discarded  sa- 
bots were  found.  The  lamp,  of  course,  was 
numbered,  and  carried  the  initials  of  a  German 
state  railway;  but  this  "exhibit"  only  bore  out 
Maertz's  statement  that  a  man  from  Aix  had 
come  in  the  wagon  to  explain  to  Joos  why  the 
consignment  of  oats  had  been  so  long  held  up 
in  the  goods  yard. 

In  fact,  a  squad  of  soldiers  had  put  the  wagon 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  105 

right,  and  were  reloading  it,  when  the  bodies  of 
Heinrich  and  his  companion  were  discovered  in 
the  stable.  Suspicion  fell  at  once  on  the  miss- 
ing pair.  Maertz  would  have  been  shot  out  of 
hand  if  an  infuriated  officer  had  not  recollected 
that  by  killing  the  Walloon  he  would  probably 
destroy  all  chance  of  tracing  the  man  who  had 
"murdered"  two  of  his  warriors.  So  Maertz 
was  arrested,  and  dumped  into  a  cellar  until 
such  time  as  a  patrol  could  take  him  to  Vise 
and  investigate  matters  there. 

Meanwhile  the  unforeseen  resistance  offered 
to  the  invaders  along  the  line  of  the  Meuse  and 
neighbourhood  of  Liege  was  throwing  the  Ger- 
man military  machine  out  of  gear.  In  this 
initial  stage  of  the  campaign  "the  best  organ- 
ised army  in  the  world"  was  like  a  powerful 
locomotive  engine  fitted  with  every  mechanical 
device  for  rapid  advance,  but  devoid  of  either 
brakes  or  reversing  gear.  As  the  7th  and  10th 
Divisions  recoiled  from  the  forts  of  Liege  in 
something  akin  to  disastrous  defeat,  congestion 
and  confusion  spread  backward  to  the  advanced 
base  at  Aix.  Hospital  trains  from  the  front 
compelled  other  trains  laden  with  reserves  and 
munitions  to  remain  in  sidings.  The  roads  be- 
came blocked.  Brigades  of  infantry  and  cav- 
alry, long  lines  of  guns  and  wagons,  were 
halted  during  many  hours.  Frantic  staff- 
officers  in  powerful  cars  were  alternately  urg- 
ing columns  to  advance  and  demanding  a  clear 
passage  to  the  rear  and  the  headquarters  staff. 


106  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

No  regimental  commandant  dared  think  and  act 
for  himself.  He  was  merely  a  cog  in  the  ma- 
chine, and  the  machine  had  broken  down.  Actu- 
ally, the  defenders  of  Liege  held  up  the  Kaiser 's 
legions  only  a  few  days,  but  it  is  no  figure  of 
speech  to  say  that  when  General  Leman  dropped 
stupefied  by  an  explosion  in  Fort  Loncin  he  had 
established  a  double  claim  to  immortality.  Not 
only  had  he  shattered  the  proud  German  legend 
of  invincibility  in  the  field,  but  he  had  also 
struck  a  deadly  blow  at  German  strategy. 
With  Liege  and  Leman  out  of  the  way,  it  would 
seem  to  the  student  of  war  that  the  invaders 
must  have  reached  Paris  early  in  September. 
They  made  tremendous  strides  later  in  the  ef- 
fort to  maintain  their  "time-table,"  but  they 
could  never  overtake  the  days  lost  in  the  valley 
of  the  Meuse. 

What  a  tiny  pawn  was  Jan  Maertz  in  this 
game  of  giants!  How  little  could  he  realise 
that  his  very  existence  depended  on  the  shock 
of  opposing  empires! 

The  communications  officer  at  the  cross-roads 
had  not  a  moment  to  spare  for  many  an  hour 
after  Jan's  execution  was  deferred.  At  last, 
about  nightfall,  when  the  9th  Division  got  into 
motion  again,  he  snatched  a  slight  breathing- 
space.  Remembering  the  prisoner,  he  detailed 
a  corporal  and  four  men  to  march  him  to  Vise 
and  make  the  necessary  inquiries  at  Joos  's  mill. 

For  Maertz 's  benefit  he  gave  the  corporal 
precise  instructions.  "If  this  fellow's  story  is 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  107 

proved  true,  and  you  find  the  man  and  the 
woman  he  says  he  brought  from  Aachen,  return 
here  with  the  three  of  them,  and  full  investiga- 
tion will  be  made.  If  no  such  man  and  woman 
have  arrived  at  the  mill,  and  the  prisoner  is 
shown  to  be  a  liar,  shoot  him  out  of  hand." 

A  young  staff-officer,  a  lieutenant  of  the 
Guards,  stretching  his  legs  while  his  chauffeur 
was  refilling  the  petrol-tank,  overheard  the 
loud-voiced  order,  and  took  a  sudden  and  keen 
interest  in  the  proceedings. 

"One  moment,"  he  said  imperatively, 
"what's  this  about  a  man  and  a  woman  brought 
from  Aachen?  Who  brought  them?  And 
when?" 

The  other  explained,  laying  stress,  of  course, 
on  the  fractured  skulls  of  two  of  his  best  men. 

1 1  Hi,  you ! ' '  cried  the  Guardsman  to  Maertz, 
"describe  these  two." 

Maertz  did  his  best.  Dalroy,  to  him,  was 
literally  a  railway  employe ;  but  his  recollection 
of  Irene's  appearance  was  fairly  exact.  More- 
over, he  was  quite  reasonably  irritated  and 
alarmed  by  the  trouble  they  had  caused.  Then 
the  lamp  and  sabots  were  produced,  and  the 
questioner  swore  mightily. 

"Leave  this  matter  entirely  in  my  hands,"  he 
advised  his  confrere.  "It  is  most  important 
that  these  people  should  be  captured,  and  this 
is  the  very  fellow  to  do  it.  I'll  promise  him 
his  life,  and  the  safety  of  his  friends,  and  pay 
him  well  into  the  bargain,  if  he  helps  me  to  get 


108  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

hold  of  that  precious  pair.  You  see,  we  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  catching  and  identifying 
him  again  if  need  be.  Personally,  I  believe  he 
is  telling  the  absolute  truth,  and  is  no  more 
responsible  for  the  killing  of  your  men  than  you 
are." 

Lieutenant  Karl  von  Halwig's  comparison 
erred  only  in  its  sheer  inadequacy.  The  com- 
munications officer's  responsibility  was  great. 
He  had  failed  to  control  his  underlings.  He 
was  blind  and  deaf  to  their  excesses.  What 
matter  how  they  treated  the  wretched  Belgians 
if  the  road  was  kept  clear?  It  was  nothing  to 
him  that  an  old  woman  should  be  murdered  and 
a  girl  outraged  so  long  as  he  kept  his  squad 
intact. 

"So  now  you  know  all  about  it,  monsieur," 
concluded  Maertz.  "When  I  met  you  in  the 
ravine  I  thought  you  were  escaping,  and  let  out 
at  you.  God  be  praised,  you  got  the  better  of 
me!" 

"Was  the  staff  officer's  name  Von  Halwig?" 
inquired  Dalroy. 

"Name  of  a  pipe,  that's  it,  monsieur!  I 
heard  him  tell  it  to  the  other  pig,  but  couldn't 
recall  it." 

"And  when  were  you  to  meet  him?" 

"He  had  to  report  to  some  general  at  Argen- 
teau,  but  reckoned  to  reach  the  mill  about  nine 
o  'clock. ' ' 

"Oh,  father  dear,  let  us  all  be  going!" 
pleaded  Leontine. 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  MILL  109 

"One  more  word,  and  I  have  finished,"  put 
in  Dalroy.  He  turned  again  to  Maertz.  "What 
did  you  mean  by  saying  a  little  while  ago  that 
the  frontier  is  closed?" 

"The  lieutenant — Von  Halwig,  is  it? — sent 
some  Uhlans  to  the  major  of  a  regiment  guard- 
ing the  line  opposite  Holland.  He  wrote  a 
message,  but  I  know  what  was  in  it  because  he 
told  the  other  officer.  'They're  making  for  the 
frontier,'  he  said,  'and  if  they  haven't  slipped 
through  already  we'll  catch  them  now  without 
fail.  They  mustn't  get  away  this  time  if  we 
have  to  arrest  and  examine  every  Bel- 
gian in  this  part  of  the  country.'  " 

*  *  Ho !  ho ! "  piped  Joos,  who  had  listened  in- 
tently to  Jan's  recital,  "why  didn't  you  tell  us 
that  sooner,  animal?  What  chance,  then,  have 
I  and  madame  and  Leontine  of  dodging  the 
rascals?" 

"Caput!"  cried  Maertz,  scratching  his  head, 
"that  settles  it!  I  never  thought  of  that!" 

"Oh,  look!"  whispered  Leontine.  "They're 
searching  the  mill ! ' ' 

So  earnest  and  vital  was  the  talk  that  none 
of  the  others  had  chanced  to  look  down  the 
ravine.  They  saw  now  that  lights  were  moving 
in  the  upper  rooms  of  the  mill.  Either  Von 
Halwig  had  arrived  before  time,  or  some  mes- 
senger had  tried  to  find  the  commissariat  of- 
ficers, and  had  raised  an  alarm. 

Joos  took  charge  straight  away,  like  the 
masterful  old  fellow  that  he  was.  "This  local- 


110  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

ity  isn't  good  for  our  health,"  he  said.  "The 
night  is  young  yet,  but  we  must  leg  it  to  a  safer 
place  before  we  begin  planning.  Leave  nothing 
behind.  We  may  need  all  that  food. — Come, 
Lise,"  and  he  grabbed  his  wife's  arm,  "you  and 
I  will  lead  the  way  to  the  Argenteau  wood. 
The  devil  himself  can't  track  me  once  I  get 
there. — Trust  me,  monsieur,  I'll  pull  you 
through.  That  lout,  Jan  Maertz,  is  all  muscle 
and  no  brain.  What  Leontine  sees  in  him  I 
can't  guess." 

For  the  time  being,  Dalroy  believed  that  the 
miller  might  prove  a  resourceful  guide.  Before 
deciding  the  course  he  personally  would  pursue 
it  was  absolutely  essential  that  he  should  learn 
the  lay  of  the  land  and  weigh  the  probabilities 
of  success  or  failure  attached  to  such  alterna- 
tives as  were  suggested. 

"We  had  better  go  with  our  friends,"  he  said 
to  Irene.  * 4  They  know  the  country,  and  I  must 
have  time  for  consideration  before  striking  out 
a  line  of  my  own." 

"I  think  it  would  be  fatal  to  separate,"  she 
agreed.  "When  all  is  said  and  done,  what  can 
they  hope  to  accomplish  without  your  help?" 

Joos's  voice  came  to  them  in  eager  if  sub- 
dued accents.  He  was  telling  his  wife  how  ac- 
counts were  squared  with  Busch.  "I  stuck  him 
with  the  fork,"  he  chortled,  "and  he  squealed 
like  a  pig!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT 

THE  miller  was  cunning  as  a  fox.  He  ar- 
gued, subtly  enough,  that  if  a  man  just  arrived 
from  Argenteau  was  the  first  to  discover  the 
dead  Prussians,  the  neighbourhood  of  Argen- 
teau itself  might  be  the  last  to  undergo  close 
search  for  the  "criminals"  who  had  dared  pun- 
ish these  demi-gods.  Following  a  cattle-path 
through  a  series  of  fields,  he  entered  a  country 
lane  about  a  mile  from  Vise.  It  was  a  narrow, 
deep-rutted,  winding  way — a  shallow  trench 
cut  into  the  soil  by  many  generations  of  pack 
animals  and  heavy  carts.  The  long  interreg- 
num between  the  solid  pavement  of  Rome  and 
the  broken  rubble  of  Macadam  covered  Europe 
with  a  network  of  such  roads.  An  unchecked 
growth  of  briars,  brambles,  and  every  species 
of  prolific  weed  made  this  particular  track  an 
ideal  hiding-place. 

Gathering  the  party  under  the  two  irreg- 
ular lines  of  pollard  oaks  which  marked  the 
otherwise  hardly  discernible  hedgerows, 
Joos  explained  that,  at  a  point  nearly 
half-a-mile  distant,  the  lane  joined  the  main 
road  which  winds  along  the  right  bank  of  the 
Meuse. 

"That  is  our  only  real  difficulty — the  cross- 
in 


112  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

ing  of  the  road, ' '  he  said.  '  *  It  is  sure  to  be  full 
of  Germans;  but  if  we  watch  our  chance  we 
should  contrive  to  scurry  from  one  side  to  the 
other  without  being  seen. ' ' 

Such  confidence  was  unquestionably  cheer- 
ing. Even  Dalroy,  though  he  put  a  somewhat 
sceptical  question,  did  not  really  doubt  that  the 
old  man  was  adopting  what  might,  in  the  cir- 
cumstances, prove  the  best  plan. 

"What  happens  when  we  do  reach  the  other 
side,  Monsieur  Joos  I "  he  inquired. 

"Then  we  enter  a  disused  quarry  in  the 
depths  of  a  wood.  The  Meuse  nearly  surrounds 
the  wood,  and  there  is  barely  room  for  a  tow- 
path  between  the  river's  edge  and  a  steep  cliff. 
The  quarry  forms  the  landward  face,  as  one 
may  say,  and  among  the  trees  is  a  woodman's 
hut.  I  shall  be  surprised  if  we  find  any  Ger- 
mans there." 

"From  your  description  it  seems  to  be  a 
suitable  post  for  a  strong  picket  watching  the 
river. ' ' 

"No,  monsieur.  The  slope  falls  away  from 
the  river,  while  the  opposite  bank  is  flat  and 
open.  I  have  been  a  soldier  in  my  time,  and  I 
understand  these  things.  It  would  be  all  right 
for  observation  purposes  if  these  pigs  hadn't 
seized  the  bridge-heads  at  Vise  and  Argenteau ; 
but  I  saw  their  cursed  Uhlans  on  the  left  bank 
many  hours  ago." 

"Lead  on,  friend,"  said  Dalroy  simply. 
"When  we  come  within  a  hundred  metres  of  the 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  113 

main  road  let  me  do  the  scouting.  I'll  tell  you 
when  and  how  to  advance." 

"Is  monsieur  a  soldier  then?" 

"Yes." 

"An  officer  perhaps!" 

"Yes." 

"Ah,  a  thousand  pardons  if  I  presumed  to 
lecture  you.  Yet  I  am  certainly  in  the  right 
about  the  wood." 

"I  have  never  doubted  you,  Monsieur  Joos. 
Do  you  know  what  time  the  moon  rises?" 

"Late.    Eleven  o'clock  at  the  earliest." 

"All  the  better,  if  you  are  sure  of  the 
way. ' ' 

"I  could  find  it  blindfolded.  So  could  Leon- 
tine.  She  goes  there  to  pick  bilberries." 

The  homely  phrase  was  unconsciously  dra- 
matic. From  the  highroad  came  the  raucous 
singing  of  German  soldiers,  the  falsetto  of 
drunkards  with  an  ear  for  music.  In  the  dis- 
tance heavy  artillery  was  growling,  and  high 
explosive  shells  were  bursting  with  a  violence 
that  seemed  to  rend  the  sky.  Over  an  area  of 
many  miles  to  the  west  the  sharp  tapping  of 
musketry  and  the  staccato  splutter  of  machine 
guns  told  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  en- 
gaged in  a  fierce  struggle  for  supremacy.  On 
every  hand  the  horizon  was  red  with  the  glare 
of  burning  houses.  The  thought  of  a  village 
girl  picking  bilberries  in  a  land  so  scarred  by 
war  and  rapine  produced  an  effect  at  once 
striking  and  fantastic.  It  was  as  though  a  ray 


114  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

of  pure  white  light  had  pierced  the  lurid  depths 
of  a  volcano. 

Dalroy  advised  the  women  to  take  off  their 
linen  aprons,  and  Madame  Joos  to  remove  as 
well  a  coif  of  the  same  material.  He  unfas- 
tened and  threw  away  the  stump  of  the  bayonet. 
Then  they  moved  on  in  Indian  file,  the  miller 
leading. 

A  definite  quality  of  blackness  loomed  above 
the  low-lying  shroud  of  mist  which  at  night  in 
still  weather  always  marks  the  course  of  a 
great  river. 

* '  The  wood ! ' '  whispered  Joos.  ' '  We  are  near 
the  road  now." 

Dalroy  went  forward  to  spy  out  the  condi- 
tions. A  column  of  infantry  was  passing. 
These  fellows  were  silent,  and  therefore  sin- 
ister. They  marched  like  tired  men,  and  their 
shuffling  feet  raised  a  cloud  of  dust. 

An  officer  lighted  a  cigarette.  "Those  guz- 
zling Prussians  would  empty  the  Meuse  if  it 
ran  with  wine,"  he  growled,  evidently  in  re- 
sponse to  a  remark  from  a  companion. 

"Our  brigadier  was  very  angry  about  the 
broken  bottles  in  the  streets  of  Argenteau," 
said  the  other.  ' '  Two  tires  were  ruined  before 
the  chauffeur  realised  that  the  place  was  lit- 
tered with  glass." 

These  were  Saxons,  cleaner-minded,  manlier 
fellows  than  the  Prussians.  Behind  them  Dal- 
roy heard  the  rumble  of  commissariat  wagons. 
He  failed  utterly  to  understand  the  why  and 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  115 

wherefore  of  the  direction  the  troops  were  tak- 
ing. According  to  his  reckoning,  they  should 
have  been  going  the  opposite  way.  But  that 
was  no  concern  of  his  at  the  moment.  He  knew 
the  Saxon  by  repute,  and  hurried  back  to  the 
two  men  and  three  women  crouching  under  a 
hedge,  having  already  noted  a  little  mound  on 
the  left  of  the  cross-roads  where  cover  was 
available.  He  explained  what  they  were  to  do 
— steal  forward,  one  by  one,  hide  behind  the 
mound,  and  dart  across  when  a  longer  space 
than  usual  separated  one  wagon  from  another, 
as  the  mounted  escort  would  probably  be 
grouped  in  front  and  in  rear  of  the  convoy. 

"Ah,  that  is  the  cavalry,"  said  Joos.  "It 
stands  on  a  rock  by  the  roadside. ' ' 

"It  is  hard  to  distinguish  anything  owing  to 
mist  and  dust,"  said  Dalroy.  "Of  course,  the 
darkness  is  all  to  the  good. — If  you  ladies  do 
not  scream,  whatever  happens,  and  you  run 
quickly  when  I  give  the  word,  I  don't  think 
there  will  be  any  real  danger. ' ' 

In  the  event,  they  were  able  to  cross  the  road 
in  a  body,  and  without  needless  haste.  A  horse 
stumbled  and  fell,  and  had  to  be  unharnessed 
before  being  got  on  to  its  feet  again.  The 
incident  held  up  the  column  during  some 
minutes,  so  Dalroy  was  not  compelled  to  aban- 
don the  rifle,  which  it  would  have  been  foolish 
in  the  extreme  to  carry  if  there  was  the  slight- 
est chance  of  being  seen. 

Thenceforth  progress  was  safe,  though  slow 


116  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

and  difficult,  because  the  gloom  beneath  the 
trees  was  that  of  a  vault.  Even  the  miller  per- 
force yielded  place  to  Leontine's  young  eyes 
and  sureness  of  foot.  There  were  times,  dur- 
ing the  ascent  of  one  side  of  the  quarry,  when 
whispered  directions  were  necessary,  while 
Madame  Joos  had  to  be  hauled  up  a  few  awk- 
ward places  bodily. 

Still,  they  reached  the  hut,  a  mere  logger's 
shed,  but  a  veritable  haven  for  people  so  mani- 
festly in  peril.  They  were  weary,  too.  No 
member  of  the  Joos  household  had  slept 
throughout  the  whole  of  Tuesday  night,  and  the 
women  especially  were  flagging  under  the 
strain. 

The  little  cabin  held  an  abundant  store  of 
shavings,  because  its  normal  tenant  rough- 
hewed  his  logs  into  sabots.  Here,  then,  was  a 
soft,  warm,  and  fragrant  resting-place.  Dal- 
roy  took  command.  He  forbade  talking,  even 
in  whispers.  Maertz,  who  promised  to  keep 
awake,  was  put  on  guard  outside  till  the  moon 
rose. 

The  wisdom  of  preventing  excited  conversa- 
tion was  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  five  people 
huddled  together  on  the  shavings  were  soon 
asleep.  There  was  nothing  strange  in  this. 
Humanity,  when  surfeited  with  emotion,  be- 
comes calm,  almost  phlegmatic.  Were  it  other- 
wise, after  a  week  of  war  soldiers  would  not 
be  sane  men,  but  maniacs. 

Dalroy   resolved    to    sleep    for   two   hours. 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  117 

About  eleven  o  'clock  he  got  up,  went  quietly  to 
the  door,  and  found  Maertz  seated  on  the 
ground,  his  back  propped  against  the  wall,  and 
his  head  sunk  on  his  breast.  As  a  consequence, 
he  was  snoring  melodiously. 

He  woke  quickly  enough  when  the  English- 
man's hand  was  clapped  over  his  mouth  and 
held  there  until  his  torpid  wits  were  sufficiently 
clear  that  he  should  understand  the  stern  words 
muttered  in  his  ear. 

"Pardon,  monsieur,"  he  said  shamefacedly. 
1 '  I  thought  there  was  no  harm  in  sitting  down. 
I  listened  to  the  guns,  and  began  counting 
them.  I  counted  one  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
shots,  I  think,  and  then " 

"And  then  you  risked  six  lives,  Leontine's 
among  them ! ' ' 

"Monsieur,  I  have  no  excuse." 

"Yet  you  have  been  a  soldier,  I  suppose? 
And  you  gabble  of  serving  your  country?" 

1 1  It  will  not  happen  again,  monsieur. ' ' 

Dalroy  pretended  an  anger  he  did  not  really 
feel.  He  wanted  this  stolid  Walloon  to  remain 
awake  now,  at  any  rate,  so  turned  away  with  an 
ejaculation  of  contempt. 

Maertz  rose.  He  endured  an  eloquent  silence 
for  nearly  a  minute.  Then  he  murmured, 
"Monsieur,  I  shall  not  offend  a  second  time. 
Counting  guns  is  worse  than  watching  sheep 
jumping  a  fence." 

The  moon  had  risen,  revealing  a  cleared  space 
in  front  of  the  hut.  A  dozen  yards  away  a  thin 


118  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

fringe  of  brushwood  and  small  trees  marked  the 
edge  of  the  quarry,  while  the  woodcutter's  path 
was  discernible  on  the  left.  A  slight  breeze  had 
called  into  being  the  myriad  tongues  of  the 
wood,  and  Dalroy  realised  that  the  unceasing 
cannonade,  joined  to  the  rustling  of  the  leaves, 
would  drown  any  sound  of  an  approaching 
enemy  until  it  was  too  late  to  retreat.  He  knew 
that  Von  Halwig,  not  to  mention  the  military 
authorities  at  Vise,  would  spare  no  effort  to 
hunt  out  and  destroy  the  man  who  had  dared  to 
flout  the  might  of  Germany,  so  he  was  far  from 
satisfied  with  the  apparent  safety  of  even  this 
secluded  refuge. 

' 'Have  you  a  piece  of  string  in  your  pock- 
ets ?  "  he  demanded  gruffly. 

Trust  a  carter  to  carry  string,  strong  stuff 
warranted  to  mend  temporarily  a  broken  strap. 
Maertz  gave  him  a  quantity. 

"I  am  going  to  the  cross  road,"  he  contin- 
ued. "Keep  a  close  watch  till  I  return.  When 
you  hear  any  movement,  or  see  any  one,  say 
clearly  'Vise.'  If  it  is  I,  I  shall  answer 
1  Liege. '  Do  you  understand  ? ' ' 

"Perfectly,  monsieur.  A  challenge  and  a 
countersign. ' ' 

Dalroy  believed  the  man  might  be  trusted 
now.  Taking  the  rifle,  he  made  off  along  the 
path,  treading  as  softly  as  the  cumbrous  sabots 
would  permit.  He  was  tempted  to  go  bare- 
footed, but  dreaded  the  lameness  which  might 
result  from  a  thorn  or  a  sharp  rock.  At  a 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  119 

suitable  place,  half-way  down  the  steep  path  by 
the  side  of  the  quarry,  he  tied  a  pistol  to  a 
stout  sapling,  and,  having  fastened  a  cord  to 
the  trigger,  arranged  it  in  such  fashion  that  it 
must  catch  the  feet  of  any  one  coming  that  way. 
The  weapon  was  at  full  cock,  and  in  all  likeli- 
hood the  unwary  passer-by  would  get  a  bullet  in 
his  body. 

It  was  dark  under  the  trees,  of  course,  but 
the  moon  was  momentarily  increasing  its  light, 
and  the  way  was  not  hard  to  find.  He  mem- 
orised each  awkward  turn  and  twist  in  case  he 
had  to  retreat  in  a  hurry.  Once  the  lower  level 
was  reached  there  was  no  difficulty,  and,  with 
due  precautions,  he  gained  the  shelter  of  a 
hedge  close  to  the  main  road. 

The  stream  of  troops  still  continued.  Few 
things  could  be  more  ominous  than  this  unend- 
ing torrent  of  armed  men.  By  how  many 
similar  roads,  he  wondered,  was  Germany  pour- 
ing her  legions  into  tiny  Belgium?  Was  she 
forcing  the  French  frontier  in  the  same  re- 
morseless way?  And  what  of  Russia?  When 
he  left  Berlin  the  talk  was  only  of  marching 
against  the  two  great  allies.  If  Germany  could 
spare  such  a  host  of  horse,  foot,  and  artillery 
for  the  overrunning  of  Belgium,  while  moving 
the  enormous  forces  needed  on  both  flanks,  what 
millions  of  men  she  must  have  placed  under 
arms  long  before  the  mobilisation  order  was 
announced  publicly!  And  what  was  England 
doing  and  saying?  England!  the  home  of  lib- 


120  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

erty  and  a  free  press,  where  demagogues 
spouted  platitudes  about  the  "curse  of  mili- 
tarism," and  encouraged  that  very  monster 
by  leaving  the  richest  country  in  the  world 
open  to  just  such  a  sudden  and  merciless 
attack  as  Belgium  was  undergoing  before  his 
eyes! 

Lying  there  among  the  undergrowth,  listen- 
ing to  the  tramp  of  an  army  corps,  and  watch- 
ing the  flicker  of  countless  rifle-barrels  in  the 
moonlight,  he  forgot  his  own  plight,  and 
thought  only  of  the  unpreparedness  of  Britain. 
He  was  a  soldier  by  training  and  inclination. 
He  harboured  no  delusions.  Man  for  man,  the 
alert,  intelligent,  and  chivalrous  British  army 
was  far  superior  to  the  cannon-fodder  of  the 
German  machine.  But  of  what  avail  was  the 
hundred  thousand  Britain  could  put  in  the  field 
in  the  west  of  Europe  against  the  four  millions 
of  Germany?  Here  was  no  combat  of  a  David 
and  a  Goliath,  but  of  one  man  against  forty. 
Naturally,  France  and  Russia  came  into  the 
picture,  yet  he  feared  that  France  would  break 
at  the  outset  of  the  campaign,  while  Austria 
might  hold  Russia  in  check  long  enough  to  en- 
able Germany  to  work  her  murderous  design. 
Be  it  remembered,  he  could  not  possibly  esti- 
mate the  fine  and  fierce  valour  of  the  resistance 
offered  by  Belgium.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
Teuton  hordes  must  already  be  hacking  their 
way  to  the  coast,  leaving  sufficient  men  and 
guns  to  contain  the  Belgian  fortresses,  and  halt- 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  121 

ing  only  when  the  white  cliffs  of  England  were 
visible  across  the  Channel. 

If  his  anxious  thoughts  wandered,  however, 
and  a  gnawing  doubt  ate  into  his  soul  lest  the 
British  fleet  might,  as  the  Germans  in  Vise 
claimed,  have  been  taken  at  a  disadvantage,  he 
did  not  allow  his  eyes  and  ears  to  neglect  the 
duties  of  the  hour. 

A  fall  in  the  temperature  had  condensed  the 
river  mist,  and  the  air  near  the  ground  was 
much  clearer  now  than  at  eight  o'clock.  The 
breeze,  too,  gathered  the  dust  into  wraiths  and 
scurrying  wisps  through  which  glimpses  of  the 
sloping  uplands  toward  Aix  were  obtainable. 
During  one  of  these  unhampered  moments  he 
caught  sight  of  something  so  weird  and  un- 
canny that  he  was  positively  startled. 

A  sorrow-laden,  waxen-hued  face  seemed  to 
peer  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  then  vanish. 
But  there  could  be  no  face  so  high  in  the  air, 
twenty  feet  or  more  above  the  heads  of  a  Prus- 
sian regiment  bawling  "  Deutschland,  Deutsch- 
land  uber  alles."  The  land  was  level  there- 
abouts. The  apparition,  consequently,  must  be 
a  mere  trick  of  the  imagination.  Yet  he  saw, 
or  fancied  he  saw,  that  same  spectral  face  twice 
again  at  intervals  of  a  few  seconds,  and  was 
vexed  with  himself  for  allowing  his  bemused 
senses  to  yield  to  some  supernatural  influence. 
Then  the  vision  came  a  fourth  time,  and  a  thrill 
ran  through  every  fibre  in  his  body. 

Because  there  could  be  no  mistake  now.    The 


122  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

face,  so  mournful,  so  benign,  so  pitying,  bore  on 
the  forehead  a  crown  of  thorns!  Even  while 
the  blood  coursed  in  Dalroy's  veins  with  the 
awe  of  it,  he  knew  that  he  was  looking  at  the 
figure  of  Christ  on  the  Cross.  This,  then,  was 
the  calvary  spoken  of  by  Joos,  and  invisible  in 
the  earlier  murk.  The  beams  of  the  risen  moon 
etched  the  painted  carving  in  most  realistic 
lights  and  shadows.  The  pallid  skin  glistened 
as  though  in  agony.  The  big,  piercing  eyes 
gazed  down  at  the  passing  soldiers  as  the  Man 
of  Sorrows  might  have  looked  at  the  heedless 
legionaries  of  Rome. 

The  travelled  Briton,  to  whom  the  wayside 
calvary  is  a  familiar  object  in  many  a  con- 
tinental landscape,  can  seldom  pass  the 
twisted,  tortured  figure  on  the  Cross  without 
a  feeling  of  awe,  tempered  by  insular  non- 
comprehension  of  the  religious  motive  which 
thrusts  into  prominence  the  most  solemn  em- 
blem of  Christianity  in  unexpected  and  often 
incongruous  places.  Seen  as  Dalroy  saw  it,  a 
hunted  fugitive  crouching  in  a  ditch,  while  the 
Huns  who  would  again  destroy  Europe  were 
lurching  past  in  thousands  within  a  few  feet 
of  where  he  lay,  the  image  of  Christ  crucified 
had  a  new  and  overwhelming  significance.  It 
induced  a  vague  uneasiness  of  spirit,  almost  a 
doubt.  That  very  day  he  had  killed  four  men 
and  gravely  wounded  a  fifth,  and  there  was  no 
shred  of  compunction  in  his  soul.  Yet,  in  body 
and  mind,  he  was  worthy  of  his  class,  and  this 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  123 

gray  old  world  has  failed  to  evolve  any  finer 
human  type  than  that  which  is  summed  up  in 
the  phrase,  an  officer  and  a  gentleman.  For 
the  foulest  of  crimes,  either  committed  or  con- 
templated, he  had  been  forced  to  use  both  the 
scales  and  the  sword  of  justice ;  but  there  was 
something  wholly  disturbing  and  abhorrent  in 
the  knowledge  that  two  thousand  years  after 
the  Great  Atonement  men  professedly  Chris- 
tian should  so  wantonly  disregard  every  prin- 
ciple that  Christ  taught  and  practised  and  died 
for.  He  reflected  bitterly  that  the  German 
soldier,  whether  officer  or  private,  is  enjoined 
to  keep  a  diary.  What  sort  of  record  would 
'  *  Heinrich, ' '  or  Busch,  or  the  three  Westphalian 
lieutenants  have  left  of  that  day's  doings  if 
they  had  lived  and  told  the  truth? 

The  answer  to  these  vexed  questionings  came 
with  the  swift  clarity  of  a  lightning  flash. 
Another  rift  in  the  dust-clouds  revealed  the 
upper  part  of  the  Cross,  and  the  moonbeams 
shone  on  a  gilded  scroll.  Dalroy  knew  his 
Bible.  "And  a  superscription  also  was  written 
over  Him  in  letters  of  Greek,  and  Latin,  and 
Hebrew :  '  This  is  the  King  of  the  Jews. '  And 
one  of  the  malefactors  which  were  hanged  railed 
on  Him,  saying,  'If  Thou  be  Christ,  save  Thy- 
self and  us.'  " 

From  that  instant  one  God-fearing  Briton,  at 
least,  never  again  allowed  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  to  darken  his  faith  in  the  divine  if  in- 
scrutable purpose.  He  had  passed  already 


124  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

through  dark  and  deadly  hours,  while  others 
were  then  near  at  hand;  but  he  was  steadfast 
in  doing  what  he  conceived  his  duty  without 
seeking  to  interpret  the  ways  of  Providence. 
"If  Thou  be  Christ?"  It  was  the  last  taunt  of 
the  unbeliever,  though  the  veil  of  the  temple 
would  be  rent  in  twain,  and  the  earth  would 
quake,  and  the  graves  be  opened,  and  the  bodies 
of  the  saints  arise  and  be  seen  by  many ! 

A  harsh  command  silenced  the  singing.  An 
officer  had  reined  in  his  horse,  and  was  demand- 
ing the  nature,  of  the  errand  which  brought  a 
squad  of  men  from  Vise. 

"Sergeant  Karl  Schwartz,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann,"  reported  the  leader  of  the  party.  "An 
Englishman,  assisted  by  a  miller  named  Joos 
and  his  man,  Maertz,  has  killed  three  of  our 
officers.  He  also  wounded  Herr  Leutnant  von 
Huntzel,  of  the  7th  Westphalian  regiment,  who 
has  recovered  sufficiently  to  say  what  happened. 
The  general-major  has  ordered  a  strict  search. 
I,  being  acquainted  with  the  district,  am  bring- 
ing these  men  to  a  wood  where  the  rascals  may 
be  hiding." 

"Killed  three,  you  say?  The  fiend  take  all 
such  Schweinhunds  and  their  helpers!  Good 
luck  to  you. — Vorwdrtsf" 

The  column  moved  on.  Schwartz,  the 
treacherous  barber  of  Vise,  led  his  men  into 
the  lane.  There  were  eleven,  all  told — hopeless 
odds — because  this  gang  of  hunters  was  ready 
for  a  fight  and  itching  to  capture  a  verdammt 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  125 

Engldnder.  And  Joos's  "safe  retreat"  had 
been  guessed  by  the  spy  who  knew  what  every 
inhabitant  of  Vise  did,  who  had  watched  and 
noted  even  such  a  harmless  occupation  as  Leon- 
tine's  bilberry-picking,  who  was  acquainted 
with  each  footpath  for  miles  around,  from 
whose  crafty  eyes  not  a  cow-byre  on  any  remote 
farm  in  the  whole  countryside  was  concealed. 

This  misfortune  marked  the  end,  Dalroy 
thought.  But  there  was  a  chance  of  escape,  if 
only  for  the  few  remaining  hours  of  the  night, 
and  he  took  it  with  the  same  high  courage  he 
displayed  in  going  back  to  the  rescue  of  Irene 
Beresford  in  the  railway  station  at  Aix.  He 
had  a  rifle  with  five  rounds  in  the  magazine 
and  one  in  the  chamber.  At  the  worst,  he 
might  be  able  to  add  another  couple  of  casual- 
ties to  the  formidable  total  already  piled  up 
during  the  German  advance  on  Liege. 

The  sabots  offered  a  serious  handicap  to 
rapid  and  silent  movement,  but  he  dared  not 
dispense  with  them,  and  made  shift  to  follow 
Schwartz  and  the  others  as  quietly  as  might  be. 
He  was  helped,  of  course,  by  the  din  of  the 
guns  and  the  rustling  of  the  leaves;  but  there 
was  an  open  space  in  the  narrow  road  before 
it  merged  in  the  wood  which  he  could  not  cross 
until  the  Germans  were  among  the  trees,  and 
precisely  in  that  locality  Schwartz  halted  his 
men  to  explain  his  project.  Try  as  he  might, 
Dalroy,  crouched  behind  a  pollard  oak,  could 
not  overhear  the  spy's  words.  But  he  smiled 


126  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

when  the  party  went  on  in  Indian  file,  Schwartz 
leading,  because  the  enemy  was  acting  just  as 
he  hoped  the  enemy  would  act. 

He  did  not  press  close  on  their  heels  now,  but 
remained  deliberately  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and 
on  the  edge  of  the  quarry.  Standing  erect, 
with  the  rifle  at  the  ready,  he  waited.  He  could 
hear  nothing,  but  judged  time  and  distance  by 
counting  fifty  slow  steps.  He  was  right  to  a 
fifth  of  a  second.  A  shot  rang  out,  and  was 
followed  instantly  by  a  yell  of  agony.  He  saw 
the  flash,  and,  taking  aim  somewhat  below  it, 
fired  six  rounds  rapidly.  A  fusillade  broke  out 
in  the  wood,  the  Germans,  like  himself,  firing  at 
the  one  flash  above  and  the  six  beneath.  A 
bullet  cut  through  his  blouse  on  the  left  shoul- 
der and  scorched  his  skin ;  but  when  the  maga- 
zine was  empty  he  ran  straight  on  for  a  few 
yards,  turned  to  the  right,  stepping  with  great 
caution,  and  threw  himself  flat  behind  a  rock. 
As  he  ran,  he  had  refilled  the  magazine,  but 
now  meant  using  the  rifle  as  a  last  resource 
only. 

In  effect,  matters  had  fallen  out  exactly  as 
he  calculated.  Schwartz  had  blundered  into  the 
man-trap  set  on  the  path  half-way  up  the  cliff, 
and  was  shot.  The  others,  lacking  a  leader,  and 
stupefied  by  the  firing  and  the  darkness,  bolted 
like  so  many  rabbits  to  the  open  road  and  the 
moonlight  as  soon  as  the  seeming  attack  from 
the  rear  ceased. 

Uncommon   grit   was   needed   to    press    on 


THE  WOODMAN'S  HUT  127 

through  a  strange  wood  at  night,  up  a  difficult 
path  bordering  a  precipice  when  each  tree 
might  vomit  the  flame  of  a  gunshot.  And  these 
fellows  were  not  cast  in  heroic  mould.  Their 
one  thought  was  to  get  back  the  way  they  came. 
They  were  received  warmly,  too.  The  passing 
regiment,  hearing  the  hubbub  and  seeing  the 
flashes,  very  reasonably  supposed  they  were 
being  taken  in  flank  by  a  Belgian  force,  and 
blazed  away  merrily  at  the  first  moving  objects 
in  sight  in  that  direction. 

Dalroy  does  not  know  to  this  day  exactly  how 
the  battle  ended  in  rear,  nor  did  he  care  then. 
He  had  routed  the  enemy  in  his  own  neighbour- 
hood, and  that  must  suffice.  Regaining  the 
path,  he  sped  upward,  pausing  only  to  retrieve 
the  pistol  which  had  proved  so  efficient  a  sen- 
tinel. Judging  by  the  groans  and  the  ster- 
torous breathing  which  came  from  among  the 
undergrowth  close  to  the  path,  Karl  Schwartz's 
services  as  a  spy  and  guide  were  lost  to  the 
great  cause  of  Kultur.  Dalroy  did  not  bother 
about  the  wretch.  He  pressed  on,  and  reached 
the  plateau  above  the  quarry.  The  clearing 
was  now  flooded  with  moonlight,  and  the  door- 
way of  the  hut  was  plainly  visible.  Jan  Maertz 
was  not  at  his  post,  but  this  was  not  surprising, 
as  he  would  surely  have  joined  old  Joos  and 
the  terrified  women  at  the  first  sounds  of  the 
firing. 

"Liege!"  said  Dalroy,  speaking  loudly 
enough  for  any  one  in  the  hut  to  hear.  There 


128  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

was  no  answer.  "Liege!"  he  cried  again,  with 
a  certain  foreboding  that  things  had  gone  awry, 
and  dreading  lest  the  precious  respite  he  had 
secured  might  be  wasted  irretrievably. 

But  the  hut  was  empty,  and  he  realised  that 
he  might  grope  like  a  blind  man  for  hours  in 
the  depths  of  the  wood.  The  one-sided  battle 
which  had  broken  out  in  the  front  of  the  calvary 
had  died  down.  He  guessed  what  had  hap- 
pened, the  blunder,  the  frenzied  explanations, 
and  their  sequel  in  a  quick  decision  to  detach 
a  company  and  surround  the  wood. 

In  his  exasperation  he  forgot  the  silent  figure 
surveying  the  scene  at  the  cross  roads,  and 
swore  like  a  very  natural  man,  for  he  was  now 
utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  do  or  where  to  go. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   RESPITE 

NEVER  before  in  the  course  of  a  somewhat 
varied  life  had  Dalroy  felt  so  irresolute,  so 
helplessly  the  victim  of  circumstances.  Bereft 
of  the  local  knowledge  possessed  by  Joos  and 
the  other  Belgians,  any  scheme  he  adopted  must 
depend  wholly  on  blind  chance.  The  miller 
had  described  the  wood  as  occupying  a  promon- 
tory in  a  bend  of  the  Meuse,  with  steep  cliffs 
forming  the  southern  bank  of  the  river.  There 
was  a  tow-path;  possibly,  a  series  of  narrow 
ravines  or  clefts  gave  precarious  access  from 
the  plateau  to  this  lower  level.  Probably,  too, 
in  the  first  shock  of  fright,  the  people  in  the  hut 
had  made  for  one  of  these  cuttings,  taking 
Irene  with  them.  They  believed,  no  doubt,  that 
the  Englishman  had  been  shot  or  captured,  and' 
after  that  spurt  of  musketry  so  alarmingly  near 
at  hand  the  lower  part  of  the  wood  would  seem 
alive  with  enemies. 

Dalroy  blamed  himself,  not  the  others,  for 
this  fatal  bungling.  Before  snatching  a  much- 
needed  rest  he  ought  to  have  arranged  with 
Joos  a  practicable  line  of  retreat  in  the  event 
of  a  night  alarm.  Of  course  he  had  imposed 
silence  on  all  as  a  sort  of  compulsory  relief 
from  the  tension  of  the  earlier  hours,  but  tye 

129 


130  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

saw  now  that  he  was  only  too  ready  to  share 
the  miller's  confidence.  Not  without  reason 
had  poor  Dr.  Lafarge  warned  his  fellow- 
countrymen  that ' l  there  were  far  too  many  Ger- 
mans in  Belgium. ' '  Schwartz  and  his  like  were 
to  be  found  in  every  walk  of  life,  from  the  mer- 
chant princes  who  controlled  the  trade  of  Ant- 
werp to  the  youngest  brush-haired  waiter  in  the 
Cafe  de  la  Regence  at  Brussels. 

Dalroy  was  aware  of  a  grim  appropriateness 
in  the  fate  of  Schwartz.  The  German  auto- 
matic pistols  carried  soft-nosed  bullets,  so  the 
arch-traitor  who  murdered  the  Vise  doctor  had 
himself  suffered  from  one  of  the  many  infernal 
devices  brought  by  Kultur  to  the  battlefields 
of  Flanders.  But  the  punishment  of  Schwartz 
could  not  undo  the  mischief  the  wretch  had 
caused.  The  men  he  led  knew  the  nature  and 
purpose  of  their  errand.  They  would  report 
to  the  first  officer  met  on  the  main  road,  who 
might  be  expected  to  detail  instantly  a  sufficient 
force  for  the  task  of  clearing  the  wood.  In 
fact,  the  operation  had  become  a  military 
necessity.  There  was  no  telling  to  what  extent 
the  locality  was  held  by  Belgian  troops,  as,  of 
course,  the  runaway  warriors  would  magnify 
the  firing  a  hundredfold,  and  no  soldier  worth 
his  salt  would  permit  the  uninterrupted  march 
of  an  army  corps  along  a  road  flanked  by  such 
a  danger-point.  In  effect,  Dalroy  conceived  a 
hundred  reasons  why  he  might  anticipate 
a  sudden  and  violent  end,  but  not  one  offering 


A  RESPITE  131 


a  fair  prospect  of  escape.  At  any  rate,  he  re- 
fused to  be  guilty  of  the  folly  of  plunging  into 
an  unknown  jungle  of  brambles,  rocks,  and 
trees,  and  elected  to  go  back  by  the  path  to 
the  foot  of  the  quarry,  whence  he  might,  with 
plenty  of  luck,  break  through  on  a  flank  before 
the  Germans  spread  their  net  too  wide. 

He  had  actually  crossed  some  part  of  the 
clearing  in  front  of  the  hut  when  his  gorge  rose 
at  the  thought  that,  win  or  lose  in  this  game  of 
life  and  death,  he  might  never  again  see  Irene 
Beresford.  The  notion  was  intolerable.  He 
halted,  and  turned  toward  the  black  wall  of  the 
wood.  Mad  though  it  was  to  risk  revealing  his 
whereabouts,  since  he  had  no  means  of  knowing 
how  close  the  nearest  pursuers  might  be,  he 
shouted  loudly,  "Miss  Beresford!" 

And  a  sweet  voice  replied,  "Oh,  Mr.  Dalroy, 
they  told  me  you  were  dead,  but  I  refused  to 
believe  them!" 

Dalroy  had  staked  everything  on  that  last 
despairing  call,  little  dreaming  that  it  would  be 
answered.  It  was  as  though  an  angel  had 
spoken  from  out  of  the  black  portals  of  death. 
He  was  so  taken  aback,  his  spirit  was  so  shaken, 
that  for  a  few  seconds  he  was  tongue-tied,  and 
Irene  appeared  in  the  moonlit  space  before  he 
stirred  an  inch.  She  came  from  an  unexpected 
quarter,  from  the  west,  or  Argenteau,  side. 

' '  The  others  said  I  was  a  lunatic  to  return, '  * 
she  explained  simply;  "but,  when  I  came  to  my 
full  senses  after  being  aroused  from  a  sound 


132  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

sleep,  and  told  to  fly  at  once  because  the  Ger- 
mans were  on  us,  I  realised  that  you  might 
have  outwitted  them  again,  and  would  be  look- 
ing for  us  in  vain.  So,  here  I  am ! ' ' 

He  ran  to  her.  Now  that  they  were  together 
again  he  was  swift  in  decision  and  resolute  as 
ever.  "Irene,"  he  said,  "you're  a  dear. 
Where  are  our  friends?  Is  there  a  path?  Can 
you  guide  me?" 

' '  Take  my  hand, ' '  she  replied.  ' '  We  turn  by 
a  big  tree  in  the  corner.  I  think  Jan  Maertz 
followed  me  a  little  way  when  he  saw  I  was 
determined  to  go  back." 

"I  suppose  I  had  unconscious  faith  in  you, 
Irene,"  he  whispered,  "and  that  is  why  I  cried 
your  name.  But  no  more  talking  now.  Rapid, 
silent  movement  alone  can  save  us." 

They  had  not  gone  twenty  yards  beneath  the 
trees  when  some  one  hissed,  "Vise!" 

"Liege,  you  lump ! ' '  retorted  Dalroy. 

"Monsieur,  I " 

"Shut  up!  Hold  mademoiselle's  hand,  and 
lead  on. ' ' 

He  did  not  ask  whither  they  were  going.  The 
path  led  diagonally  to  the  left,  and  that  was 
what  he  wanted — a  way  to  a  flank. 

Maertz,  however,  soon  faltered  and  stopped 
in  his  tracks. 

"The  devil  take  all  woods  at  night-time!"  he 
growled.  ' '  Give  me  the  highroad  and  a  wagon- 
team,  and  I'll  face  anything." 

"Are  you  lost?"  asked  Dalroy. 


A  KE  SPITE  133 


"I  suppose  so,  monsieur.  But  they  can't  be 
far.  I  told  Joos " 

' '  Jan,  is  that  you  ? ' '  cried  Leontine  's  voice. 

" Ah,  Dieu  merci!    These  infernal  trees " 

"Silence  now!"  growled  Dalroy  impera- 
tively. ' 1  Go  ahead  as  quickly  as  possible. ' ' 

The  semblance  of  a  path  existed;  even  so, 
they  stumbled  over  gnarled  roots,  collided  with 
tree-trunks  which  stood  directly  in  the  way,  and 
had  to  fend  many  a  low  branch  off  their  faces. 
They  created  an  appalling  noise;  but  were 
favoured  by  the  fact  that  the  footpath  led  to 
the  west,  whereas  the  pursuers  must  climb  the 
cliff  on  the  east. 

Leontine,  however,  led  them  with  the  quiet 
certainty  of  a  country-born  girl  moving  in  a 
familiar  environment.  She  could  guess  to  a 
yard  just  where  the  track  was  diverted  by  some 
huge-limbed  elm  or  far-spreading  chestnut,  and 
invariably  picked  up  the  right  line  again,  for 
the  excellent  reason,  no  doubt,  that  the  dense 
undergrowth  stood  breast  high  elsewhere  at 
that  season  of  the  year. 

After  a  walk  that  seemed  much  longer  than 
it  really  was — the  radius  of  the  wood  from  the 
hut  being  never  more  than  two  hundred  yards 
in  any  direction — the  others  heard  her  say  anx- 
iously, ' '  Are  you  there,  father  ? ' ' 

"Where  the  deuce  do  you  think  I'd  be?" 
came  the  irritated  demand.  "Do  you  imagine 
that  your  mother  and  I  are  skipping  down  these 
rocks  like  a  couple  of  weasels?" 


134  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"It  is  quite  safe,"  said  the  girl.  "I  and 
Marie  Lafarge  went  down  only  last  Thursday. 
Jules  always  goes  that  way  to  Argenteau.  He 
has  cut  steps  in  the  bad  places.  Jan  and  I  will 
lead.  We  can  help  mother  and  you." 

Dalroy,  still  holding  Irene's  arm,  pressed 
forward. 

"Are  we  near  the  tow-path?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Monsieur  I' Anglais?" 
chuckled  the  miller.  "Name  of  a  pipe,  I  was 
positive  those  sales  Alboches  had  got  you 
twenty  minutes  since.  Yes,  if  you  trip  in  the 
next  few  yards  you  '11  find  yourself  on  the  tow- 
path  after  falling  sixty  feet." 

"Go  on,  Leontine!"  commanded  Dalroy. 
1 '  What  you  and  your  friend  did  for  amusement 
we  can  surely  do  to  save  our  lives.  But  there 
should  be  moonlight  on  this  side.  Have  any 
clouds  come  up?" 

"These  are  firs  in  front,  monsieur.  Once 
clear  of  them,  we  can  see." 

"Very  well.  Don't  lose  another  second. 
Only,  before  beginning  the  descent,  make  cer- 
tain that  the  river  bank  holds  no  Germans. ' ' 

Joos  grumbled,  but  his  wife  silenced  him. 
That  good  lady,  it  appeared,  had  given  up  hope 
when  the  struggle  broke  out  in  the  kitchen. 
She  had  been  snatched  from  the  jaws  of  death 
by  a  seeming  miracle,  and  regarded  Dalroy  as 
a  very  Paladin.  She  attributed  her  rescue  en- 
tirely to  him,  and  was  almost  inclined  to  be 
sceptical  of  Joos's  sensational  story  about  the 


A  RESPITE  135 


killing  of  Busch.  * '  There  never  was  such  a  man 
for  arguing,"  she  said  sharply.  "I  do  believe 
you'd  contradict  an  archbishop.  Do  as  the  gen- 
tleman bids  you.  He  knows  best." 

Now,  seeing  that  madame  herself,  after  one 
look,  had  refused  point-blank  to  tackle  the 
supposed  path,  and  had  even  insisted  on  retreat- 
ing to  the  cover  of  the  wood,  Joos  was  entitled 
to  protest.  Being  a  choleric  little  man,  he 
would  assuredly  have  done  so  fully  and  freely 
had  not  a  red  light  illumined  the  tree-tops, 
while  the  crackle  of  a  fire  was  distinctly  audible. 
The  Germans  had  reached  the  top  of  the  quarry, 
and,  in  order  to  dissipate  the  impenetrable 
gloom,  had  converted  the  hut  into  a  beacon. 

"Misericorde!"  he  muttered.  ''They  are 
burning  our  provisions,  and  may  set  the  for- 
est ablaze!" 

And  that  is  what  actually  happened.  The 
vegetation  was  dry,  as  no  rain  had  fallen  for 
many  a  day.  The  shavings  and  store  of  logs  in 
the  hut  burned  like  tinder,  promptly  creating 
a  raging  furnace  wholly  beyond  the  control 
of  the  unthinking  dolts  who  started  it.  The 
breeze  which  had  sprung  up  earlier  became  a 
roaring  tornado  among  the  trees,  and  some 
acres  of  woodland  were  soon  in  flames.  The 
light  of  that  fire  was  seen  over  an  area  of  hun- 
dreds of  miles.  Spectators  in  Holland  wrongly 
attributed  it  to  the  burning  of  Vise,  which  was, 
however,  only  an  intelligent  anticipation  of 
events,  because  the  delightful  old  town  was  com- 


136  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

pletely  destroyed  a  week  later  in  revenge  for  the 
defeats  inflicted  on  the  invaders  at  Tirlemont 
and  St.  Trond  during  the  first  advance  on  Ant- 
werp. 

Once  embarked  on  a  somewhat  perilous  de- 
scent, the  fugitives  gave  eyes  or  thought  to 
naught  else.  Jules,  the  pioneer  quoted  by 
Leontine,  who  was  the  owner  of  the  hut  and 
maker  of  sabots,  had  rough-hewed  a  sort  of 
stairway  out  of  a  narrow  cleft  in  the  rock  face. 
To  young  people,  steady  in  nerve  and  sure  of 
foot,  the  passage  was  dangerous  enough,  but  to 
Joos  and  his  wife  it  offered  real  hazard.  How- 
ever, they  were  allowed  no  time  for  hesitancy. 
With  Leontine  in  front,  guiding  her  father,  and 
Maertz  next,  telling  Madame  Joos  where  to  put 
her  feet,  while  Dalroy  grasped  her  broad  shoul- 
ders and  gave  an  occasional  eye  to  Irene,  they 
all  reached  the  level  tow-path  without  the  least 
accident.  Irene,  by  the  way,  carried  the  rifle, 
so  that  Dalroy  should  have  both  hands  at 
liberty. 

Without  a  moment's  delay  he  took  the  weapon 
and  readjusted  the  magazine,  which  he  had 
removed  for  the  climb.  Bidding  the  others 
follow  at  such  a  distance  that  they  would  not 
lose  sight  of  him,  yet  be  able  to  retire  if  he 
found  the  way  disputed  by  soldiers,  he  set  off 
in  the  direction  of  Argenteau. 

In  his  opinion  the  next  ten  minutes  would 
decide  whether  or  not  they  had  even  a  remote 
chance  of  winning  through  to  a  place  of  com- 


A  RESPITE  137 


parative  safety.  He  had  made  up  his  own  mind 
what  to  do  if  he  met  any  Germans.  He  would 
advise  the  Joos  family  and  Maertz  to  hide  in 
the  cleft  they  had  just  descended,  while  he 
would  take  to  the  Meuse  with  Irene — provided, 
that  is,  she  agreed  to  dare  the  long  swim  by 
night.  Happily  there  was  no  need  to  adopt  this 
counsel  of  despair.  The  fire,  instead  of  assist- 
ing the  flanking  party  on  the  western  side,  only 
delayed  them.  Sheer  curiosity  as  to  what  was 
happening  in  the  wood  drew  all  eyes  there 
rather  than  to  the  river  bank,  so  the  three  men 
and  three  women  passed  along  the  tow-path  un- 
seen and  unchallenged. 

After  a  half-mile  of  rapid  progress  Dalroy 
judged  that  they  were  safe  for  the  time,  and 
allowed  Madame  Joos  to  take  a  much-needed 
rest.  Though  breathless  and  nearly  spent,  she, 
like  the  others,  found  an  irresistible  fascination 
in  the  scene  lighted  by  the  burning  trees.  The 
whole  countryside  was  resplendent  in  crimson 
and  silver,  because  the  landscape  was  now 
steeped  in  moonshine,  and  the  deep  glow  of  the 
fire  was  most  perceptible  in  the  patches  where 
ordinarily  there  would  be  black  shadows.  The 
Meuse  resembled  a  river  of  blood,  the  move- 
ment of  its  sluggish  current  suggesting  the  on- 
ward roll  of  some  fluid  denser  than  water.  Old 
Joos,  whose  tongue  was  seldom  at  rest,  used 
that  very  simile. 

''Those  cursed  Prussians  have  made  Belgium 
a  shambles,"  he  added  bitterly.  "Look  at  our 


138  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

river.  It  isn't  our  dear,  muddy  Meuse.  It's  a 
stream  in  the  infernal  regions." 

"Yes,"  gasped  his  wife.  "And  listen  to 
those  guns,  Henri!  They  beat  a  sort  of 
roulade,  like  drums  in  hell ! ' ' 

This  stout  Walloon  matron  had  never  heard 
of  Milton.  Her  ears  were  not  tuned  to  the 
music  of  Parnassus.  She  would  have  gazed  in 
mild  wonder  at  one  who  told  of  "noises  loud 
and  ruinous," 

When  Bellona  storms 

With  all  her  battering  engines,  bent  to  raze 
Some  capital  city. 

But  in  her  distress  of  body  and  soul  she  had 
coined  a  phrase  which  two,  at  least,  of  her 
hearers  would  never  forget.  The  siege  of 
Liege  did,  indeed,  roar  and  rumble  with  the  din 
of  a  demoniac  orchestra.  Its  clamour  mounted 
to  the  firmament.  It  was  as  though  the  nether 
fiends,  following  Moloch's  advice,  were  striving, 

Arm'd  with  Hell  flames  and  fury,  all  at  once, 
O'er  Heaven's  high  towers  to  force  resistless  way. 

Dalroy  himself  yielded  to  the  spell  of  the 
moment.  Here  was  red  war  such  as  the  soldier 
dreams  of.  His  warrior  spirit  did  not  quail. 
He  longed  only  for  the  hour,  if  ever  the  privi- 
lege was  vouchsafed,  when  he  would  stand 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  men  of  his  own 
race,  and  watch  with  unflinching  eye  those  same 
dread  tokens  of  a  far-flung  battle  line. 


A  RESPITE  139 


Irene  Beresford  seemed  to  read  his  pass- 
ing mood.  "War  has  some  elements  of  great- 
ness," she  said  quietly.  "The  pity  is  that 
while  it  ennobles  a  few  it  degrades  the  mul- 
titude." 

With  a  woman's  intuition,  she  had  gone 
straight  to  the  heart  of  the  problem  propounded 
by  Teutonism  to  an  amazed  world.  The  "deg- 
radation" of  a  whole  people  was  already  Ger- 
many's greatest  and  unforgivable  offence. 
Few,  even  the  most  cynical,  among  the  students 
of  European  politics  could  have  believed  that 
the  Kaiser's  troops  would  sully  their  country's 
repute  by  the  inhuman  excesses  committed  dur- 
ing those  first  days  in  Belgium.  At  the  best, 
"war  is  hell";  but  the  great  American  leader 
who  summed  up  its  attributes  in  that  pithy 
phrase  thought  only  of  the  mangled  men,  the 
ruined  homesteads,  the  bereaved  families  which 
mark  its  devastating  trail.  He  had  seen  noth- 
ing of  German  "  f rightf ulness. "  The  men  he 
led  would  have  scorned  to  ravage  peaceful  vil- 
lages, impale  babies  on  bayonets  and  lances,  set 
fire  to  houses  containing  old  and  bedridden 
people,  murder  hostages,  rape  every  woman  in 
a  community,  torture  wounded  enemies,  and 
shoot  harmless  citizens  in  drunken  sport.  Yet 
the  German  armies  did  all  these  things  before 
they  were  a  fortnight  in  the  field.  They  are  not 
impeached  on  isolated  counts,  attributable,  per- 
haps, to  the  criminal  instincts  of  a  small  minor- 
ity. They  carried  out  bestial  orgies  in  bat- 


140  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

talions  and  brigades  acting  under  word  of  com- 
mand. The  jolly,  good-humoured  fellows  who 
used  to  tramp  in  droves  through  the  Swiss 
passes  every  summer,  each  man  with  a  rucksack 
on  his  back,  and  beguiling  the  road  in  lusty 
song,  seemed  to  cast  aside  all  their  cheerful 
camaraderie,  all  their  exuberant  kindliness  of 
nature,  when  garbed  in  the  "field  gray"  livery 
of  the  State,  and  let  loose  among  the  pleasant 
vales  and  well-tilled  fields  of  Flanders.  That 
will  ever  remain  Germany's  gravest  sin.  When 
' '  the  thunder  of  the  captains  and  the  shouting ' ' 
is  stilled,  when  time  has  healed  the  wounds  of 
victor  and  vanquished,  the  memories  of  Vise, 
of  Louvain,  of  Aershot,  of  nearly  every  town 
and  hamlet  in  Belgium  and  Northern  France 
once  occupied  by  the  savages  from  beyond  the 
Rhine,  will  remain  imperishable  in  their  horror. 
German  Kultur  was  a  highly  polished  veneer. 
Exposed  to  the  hot  blast  of  war  it  peeled  and 
shrivelled,  leaving  bare  a  diseased,  worm-eaten 
structure,  in  which  the  honest  fibre  of  humanity 
had  been  rotted  by  vile  influences,  both  social 
and  political. 

Women  seldom  err  when  they  sum  up  the 
characteristics  of  the  men  of  a  race,  and  the 
women  of  every  other  civilised  nation  were 
united  in  their  dislike  of  German  men  long  be- 
fore the  first  week  in  August,  1914.  Irene 
Beresford  had  yet  to  peer  into  the  foulest 
depths  of  Teutonic  "degradation";  but  she  had 
sensed  it  as  a  latent  menace,  and  found  in  its 


A  RESPITE  141 


stark  records  only  the  fulfilment  of  her  vague 
fears. 

Dalroy  read  into  her  words  much  that  she 
had  left  unsaid.  "At  best  it's  a  terrible  neces- 
sity, ' '  he  replied ;  '  *  at  worst  it 's  what  we  have 
seen  and  heard  of  during  the  past  twenty-four 
hours.  I  shall  never  understand  why  a  people 
which  prided  itself  on  being  above  all  else  in- 
tellectual should  imagine  that  atrocity  is  a 
means  toward  conquest.  Such  a  theory  is  so 
untrue  historically  that  Germany  might  have 
learnt  its  folly. ' ' 

Joos  grew  uneasy  when  his  English  friends 
spoke  in  their  own  language.  The  suspicious 
temperament  of  the  peasant  is  always  doubtful 
of  things  outside  its  comprehension.  He  would 
have  been  astounded  if  told  they  were  discuss- 
ing the  ethics  of  warfare. 

"Well,  have  you  two  settled  where  we're  to 
go?"  he  demanded  gruffly.  "In  my  opinion, 
the  Meuse  is  the  best  place  for  the  lot  of  us." 

"In  with  you,  then,"  agreed  Dalroy,  "but 
hand  over  your  money  to  madame  before  you 
take  the  dip.  Leontine  and  Jan  may  need  it 
later  to  start  the  mill  running. ' ' 

Maertz  laughed.    The  joke  appealed  strongly. 

Madame  Joos  turned  on  her  husband.  "How 
you  do  chatter,  Henri !"  she  said.  "We  all  owe 
our  lives  to  this  gentleman,  yet  you  aren't  sat- 
isfied. The  Meuse  indeed!  What  will  you  be 
saying  next!" 

* '  How  far  is  Argenteau  f ' '  put  in  Dalroy. 


142  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"That's  it,  where  the  house  is  on  fire,"  said 
the  miller,  pointing. 

"About  a  kilometre,  I  take  it?" 

"Something  like  that." 

* '  Have  you  friends  there  ? ' ' 

"Ay,  scores,  if  they're  alive." 

"I  hear  no  shooting  in  that  direction.  More- 
over, an  army  corps  is  passing  through.  Let  us 
go  there.  Something  may  turn  up.  We  shall  be 
safer  among  thousands  of  Germans  than  here." 

They  walked  on.  The  Englishman's  air  of  de- 
cision was  a  tonic  in  itself. 

The  fire  on  the  promontory  was  now  at  its 
height,  but  a  curve  in  the  river  hid  the  fugi- 
tives from  possible  observation.  Dalroy  was 
confident  as  to  two  favourable  factors — the 
men  of  the  marching  column  would  not  search 
far  along  the  way  they  had  come,  and  their 
commander  would  recall  them  when  the  wood 
yielded  no  trace  of  its  supposed  occupants. 

There  had  been  fighting  along  the  right  bank 
of  the  Meuse  during  the  previous  day.  Ger- 
man helmets,  red  and  yellow  Belgian  caps,  por- 
tions of  accoutrements  and  broken  weapons, 
littered  the  tow-path.  But  no  bodies  were  in 
evidence.  The  river  had  claimed  the  dead  and 
the  wounded  Belgians;  the  enemy's  wounded 
had  been  transferred  to  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

Nearing  Argenteau  they  heard  a  feeble  cry. 
They  stopped,  and  listened.  Again  it  came, 
clearly  this  time :  "  Elsa !  Elsa ! ' ' 

It  was  a  man's  voice,  and  the  name  was  that 


A  RESPITE  143 


of  a  German  woman.  Maertz  searched  in  a 
thicket,  and  found  a  young  German  officer  lying 
there.  He  was  delirious,  calling  for  the  help 
of  one  powerless  to  aid. 

He  seemed  to  become  aware  of  the  presence 
of  some  human  being.  Perhaps  his  atrophied 
senses  retained  enough  vitality  to  hear  the 
passing  footsteps. 

"Elsa!"  he  moaned  again,  "give  me  water, 
for  God's  sake!" 

"He's  done  for,"  reported  Maertz  to  the 
waiting  group.  "He's  covered  with  blood." 

"For  all  that  he  may  prove  our  salvation," 
said  Dalroy  quickly.  '  *  Sharp,  now !  Pitch  our 
firearms  and  ammunition  into  the  river.  We 
must  lift  a  gate  off  its  hinges,  and  carry  that 
fellow  into  Argenteau." 

Joos  grinned.  He  saw  the  astuteness  of  the 
scheme.  A  number  of  Belgian  peasants  bring- 
ing a  wounded  officer  to  the  ambulance  would 
probably  be  allowed  to  proceed  scot-free.  But 
he  was  loath  to  part  with  the  precious  fork  on 
which  the  blood  of  "that  fat  Busch"  was  con- 
gealing. He  thrust  it  into  a  ditch,  and  if  ever 
he  was  able  to  retrieve  it  no  more  valued 
souvenir  of  the  great  war  will  adorn  his  dwell- 
ing. They  possessed  neither  wine  nor  water; 
but  a  tiny  rivulet  flowing  into  the  Meuse  under 
a  neighbouring  bridge  supplied  the  latter,  and 
the  wounded  man  gulped  down  great  mouthf  uls 
out  of  a  Pickel-haube.  It  partially  cleared  his 
wits. 


144  THE  DAY  OF  WEATH 

"Where  am  I?"  he  asked  faintly. 

Dalroy  nodded  to  Joos,  who  answered,  "On 
the  Meuse  bank,  near  Argenteau." 

"Ah,  I  remember.  Those  cursed " 

Some  dim  perception  of  his  surroundings 
choked  the  word  on  his  lips.  "I  was  hit,"  he 
went  on,  "and  crawled  among  the  bushes." 

"Was  there  fighting  here  this  morning?" 

1 '  Yes.    To-day  is  Tuesday,  isn  't  it ! " 

"No,  Wednesday  midnight." 

"Ach,  Gott!  That  verdammt  ambulance 
missed  me !  I  have  lain  here  two  days !" 

This  time  he  swore  without  hesitation,  since 
he  was  cursing  his  own  men. 

Jan  came  with  a  hurdle.  "This  is  lighter 
than  a  gate,  monsieur,"  he  explained. 

Dalroy  nudged  Joos  sharply,  and  the  miller 
took  the  cue.  "Eight,"  he  said.  "Now,  you 
two,  handle  him  carefully. ' ' 

The  German  groaned  piteously,  and  fainted. 

* '  Oh,  he 's  dead ! '  '  gasped  Irene,  when  she  saw 
his  head  drop. 

"No,  he  will  recover.  But  don't  speak  Eng- 
lish.— As  for  you,  Jan  Maertz,  no  more  of  your 
'monsieur'  and  'madame.'  I  am  Pierre,  and 
this  lady  is  Clementine.  You  understand!" 

Dalroy  spoke  emphatically.  Had  the  Ger- 
man retained  his  wits  their  project  might  be 
undone.  In  the  event,  the  pain  of  movement  on 
the  hurdle  revived  the  wounded  man,  and  he 
asked  for  more  water.  They  were  then  enter- 
ing the  outskirts  of  Argenteau,  so  they  kept  on. 


A  RESPITE  145 


Soon  they  gained  the  main  road,  and  Joos 
inquired  of  an  officer  the  whereabouts  of 
a  field  hospital.  He  directed  them  quite  civ- 
illy, and  offered  to  detail  men  to  act  as  bearers. 
But  the  miller  was  now  his  own  shrewd  self 
again. 

' '  No, '  '  he  said  bluntly,  * '  I  and  my  family  have 
rescued  your  officer,  and  we  want  a  safe 
conduct." 

Off  they  went  with  their  living  passport. 
The  field  hospital  was  established  in  the  village 
school,  and  here  the  patient  was  turned  over  to 
a  surgeon.  As  it  happened,  the  latter  recog- 
nised a  friend,  and  was  grateful.  He  sent  an 
orderly  with  them  to  find  the  major  in  charge 
of  the  lines  of  communication,  and  they  had 
not  been  in  Argenteau  five  minutes  before  they 
were  supplied  with  a  laisser  passer,  in  which 
they  figured  as  Wilhelm  Schultz,  farmer,  and 
wife,  Clementine  and  Leontine,  daughters,  and 
the  said  daughters '  fiances,  Pierre  Dampier  and 
Georges  Lambert ;  residence  Aubel ;  destination 
Andenne. 

There  was  not  the  least  hitch  in  the  matter. 
The  major  was,  in  his  way,  courteous.  Joos 
gave  his  own  Christian  name  as  "Guillaume," 
but  the  German  laughed. 

"You're  a  good  citizen  of  the  Fatherland 
now,  my  friend,"  he  guffawed,  "so  we'll  make 
it  'Wilhelm.'  As  for  this  pair  of  doves,"  and 
he  eyed  the  two  girls,  "warn  off  any  of  our 
lads.  Tell  them  that  I,  Major  von  Arnheim, 


146  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

said  so.  They're  a  warm  lot  where  a  pretty 
woman  is  concerned." 

Von  Arnheim  was  a  stout  man,  a  not  uncom- 
mon quality  in  German  majors.  Perhaps  he 
wondered  why  Joos  looked  fixedly  at  the  pit  of 
his  stomach. 

But  a  motor  cyclist  dashed  up  with  a  des- 
patch, and  he  forgot  all  about  "Schultz"  and 
his  family.  As  it  happened,  he  was  a  man  of 
some  ability,  and  the  hopeless  block  at  Aix 
caused  by  the  stubborn  defence  of  Liege  had 
brought  about  the  summary  dismissal  of  a  Gen- 
eral by  the  wrathful  Kaiser.  Hence,  the  Ar- 
genteau  major  was  promoted  and  recalled  to  the 
base.  His  next  in  rank,  summoned  to  the  post 
an  hour  later,  knew  nothing  of  the  laisser  passer 
granted  to  a  party  which  closely  resembled  the 
much-wanted  miller  of  Vise  and  his  compan- 
ions; he  read  an  "urgent  general  order"  for 
their  arrest  without  the  least  suspicion  that 
they  had  slipped  through  the  net  in  that  very 
place. 

Meanwhile  these  things  were  in  the  lap  of 
the  gods.  For  the  moment,  the  six  people  were 
free,  and  actually  under  German  protection. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN   EXPOSITION   OF   GERMAN   METHODS 

THREE  large  and  powerful  automobiles  stood 
at  rest  in  the  tiny  square  of  Argenteau.  Nearly 
every  little  town  in  Belgium  and  France  pos- 
sesses its  place,  the  hub  of  social  and  business 
life,  the  centre  where  roads  converge  and  mar- 
kets are  held.  In  the  roadway,  near  the  cars, 
were  several  officers,  deep  in  conversation. 

"Look,"  murmured  Irene  to  Dalroy,  "the 
high-shouldered,  broadly-built  man,  facing  this 
way,  is  General  von  Emmich ! ' ' 

By  this  time  Dalroy  was  acquainted  with  the 
name  of  the  German  commander-in-chief.  He 
found  a  fleeting  interest  in  watching  him  now, 
while  Joos  and  the  others  loitered  irresolutely 
on  the  pavement  outside  the  improvised  office 
of  the  Kommandantur. 

Though  the  moon  was  high  and  clear,  there 
was  no  other  light,  and  the  diffused  brilliance 
of  the  "orbed  maiden,  with  white  fire  laden," 
is  not  favourable  to  close  observation.  But 
Von  Emmich 's  bearing  and  gestures  were  sig- 
nificant. He  put  an  abrupt  end  to  the  conclave 
by  an  emphatic  sweep  of  his  right  arm,  and  the 
larger  number  of  his  staff  disposed  themselves 
in  two  of  the  cars,  in  which  the  chauffeurs  and 
armed  escorts  were  already  seated.  They  made 

147 


148  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

off  in  the  direction  of  Aix.  It  was  easy  to 
guess  their  errand.  More  cannon,  more  cannon- 
fodder  ! 

The  generalissimo  himself  remained  apart 
from  the  colonel  and  captain  who  apparently 
formed  his  personal  suite.  He  strode  to  and 
fro,  evidently  in  deep  thought.  Once  he  halted 
quite  close  to  the  little  company  of  peasants,  and 
Dalroy  believed  he  saw  tears  in  his  eyes,  tears 
instantly  brushed  away  by  an  angry  hand. 
Whatever  the  cause  of  this  emotion,  the  Gen- 
eral quickly  mastered  a  momentary  weakness. 
Indeed,  that  spasmodic  yielding  seemed  to  have 
braced  his  will  to  a  fixed  purpose,  because  he 
walked  to  the  waiting  car,  wrote  something  by 
the  light  of  an  electric  torch,  and  said  to  the 
younger  of  the  staff  officers,  ''Take  that  to  the 
field  telegraph.  It  must  have  priority. ' ' 

Somehow,  Dalroy  sensed  the  actual  text  of 
the  message.  Von  Emmich  was  making  the  hu- 
miliating admission  that  Liege,  far  from  having 
fallen,  as  he  had  announced  during  the  first 
hours  of  the  advance,  was  still  an  immovable 
barrier  against  a  living  torrent  of  men.  So  the 
heart  of  this  middle-aged  warrior,  whose  repute 
was  good  when  measured  by  the  Prussian 
standard,  had  not  melted  because  of  the  misery 
and  desolation  he  and  his  armed  ruffians  had 
brought  into  one  of  the  most  peaceful,  indus- 
trious, and  law-abiding  communities  in  the 
world.  His  tears  flowed  because  of  failure,  not 
of  regret.  His  withers  were  wrung  by  mortifi- 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      149 

cation,  not  pity.  He  would  have  waded  knee- 
deep  in  the  blood  of  Belgium  if  only  he  could 
have  gained  his  ends  and  substantiated  by  lit- 
eral fact  that  first  vainglorious  telegram  to  the 
War  Lord  of  Potsdam.  Now  he  had  to  ask  for 
time,  reinforcements,  siege  guns,  while  the  clock 
ticked  inexorably,  and  England,  France,  and 
Russia  were  mobilising.  Perhaps  it  was  in  that 
hour  that  his  morbid  thoughts  first  turned  to 
a  suicide's  death  as  the  only  reparation  for 
what  he  conceived  to  be  a  personal  blunder. 
Yet  his  generalship  was  marked  by  no  grave 
strategical  fault.  If  aught  erred,  it  was  the 
German  State  machine,  which  counted  only  on 
mankind  having  a  body  and  a  brain,  but  denied 
it  a  soul. 

Von  Emmich's  troubles  were  no  concern  of 
Dalroy's,  save  in  their  reaction  on  his  own  dif- 
ficulties. He  was  conscious  of  a  certain  sur- 
prise that  Irene  Beresford  should  recognise  one 
of  the  leaders  of  modern  Germany  so  promptly ; 
but  this  feeling,  in  its  turn,  yielded  to  the  vital 
things  of  the  moment.  "Let  us  be  moving,"  he 
said  quietly,  and  led  the  way  with  Joos. 

'  *  Why  did  you  give  Andenne  as  your  destina- 
tion?" he  inquired. 

"My  wife's  cousin  lives  there,  monsieur. 
She  is  married  to  a  man  named  Alphonse  Stau- 
waert.  I  had  to  say  something.  I  remembered 
Madame  Stauwaert  in  the  nick  of  time." 

"But  Andenne  lies  beyond  Liege.  To  get 
there  we  shall  have  to  traverse  the  whole  Ger- 


150  THE  DAY  OP  WRATH 

man  line,  and  pass  some  of  the  outlying  forts, 
which  is  impossible." 

"We  must  go  somewhere." 

"True.  But  why  not  make  for  a  place  that 
is  attainable?  Heaven — or  Purgatory,  at  any 
rate — is  far  more  easily  reached  to-night  than 
Andenne. ' ' 

"I  didn't  say  we  were  going  there  at  once," 
snapped  the  miller.  "It's  more  than  twenty- 
five  kilometres  from  here,  and  is  far  enough 
away  to  be  safe  when  I'm  asked  where  I  am 
bound  for.  My  wife  couldn  't  walk  it  to-morrow, 
let  alone  to-night." 

"Andenne  lies  down  the  valley  of  the  Meuse 
too,  doesn't  it?" 

"Ay." 

"Well,  isn't  that  simply  falling  off  a  rock  into 
a  whirlpool?  The  Germans  must  pass  that  way 
to  France,  and  it  is  France  they  are  aiming  at, 
not  Belgium. ' ' 

They  talk  mostly  about  England,"  said  Joos 
sapiently. 

"Yes,  because  they  fear  her.  But  let  us 
avoid  politics,  my  friend.  Our  present  problem 
is  how  and  where  to  bestow  these  women  for  the 
night.  After  that,  the  sooner  we  three  men 
leave  them  the  better.  I,  at  least,  must  go.  I 
may  be  detected  any  minute,  and  then — God 
help  you  others ! ' ' 

" Saperlotte!  That  isn't  the  way  you  English 
are  treating  us.  No,  monsieur,  we  sink  or  swim 
together. ' ' 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      151 

That  ready  disavowal  of  any  clash  of  inter- 
ests was  cheering.  The  little  man's  heart  was 
sound,  though  his  temper  might  be  short.  Good 
faith,  however,  was  not  such  a  prime  essential 
now  as  good  judgment,  and  Dalroy  halted  again 
at  a  corner  of  the  square.  To  stay  in  Argen- 
teau  was  madness.  But — there  were  three 
roads.  One  led  to  Vise,  one  to  Liege,  and  one 
to  the  German  frontier!  The  first  two  were 
closed  hopelessly.  The  third,  open  in  a  sense, 
was  fantastic  when  regarded  as  a  possible 
avenue  of  escape.  Yet  that  third  road  offered 
the  only  path  toward  comparative  security  and 
rest. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  look  so  dejected," 
whispered  Irene,  peeping  up  into  Dalroy 's 
downcast  face  with  the  winsome  smile  which 
had  so  taken  his  fancy  during  the  long  journey 
from  Berlin.  "I've  been  counting  our  gains 
and  losses.  Surely  the  balance  is  heavy  on  our 
side.  We — you,  that  is — have  defeated  the 
whole  German  army.  We've  lost  some  sleep 
and  some  clothes,  but  have  secured  a  safe- 
conduct  from  our  enemies,  after  knocking  a 
good  many  of  them  on  the  head.  Some  men,  I 
know,  look  miserable  when  most  successful ;  but 
I  don't  put  you  in  that  category." 

She  was  careful  to  talk  German,  not  that 
there  was  much  chance  of  being  actually  over- 
heard, but  to  prevent  the  sibilant  accents  of 
English  speech  reaching  suspicious  ears. 
Britons  who  have  no  language  but  their  own 


152  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

are  often  surprised  when  abroad  at  hearing 
children  mimicking  them  by  hissing.  Curiously 
enough,  such  is  the  effect  of  our  island  tongue 
on  foreign  ears.  Monosyllables  like  "yes," 
"this,"  "it's,"  and  scores  of  others  in  constant 
use,  no  less  than  the  almost  invariable  plural 
form  of  nouns,  lead  to  the  illusion,  which  Irene 
was  aware  of,  and  guarded  against. 

Yet,  despite  the  uncouth,  harsh-sounding 
words  on  her  lips,  and  the  coarse  Flemish  gar- 
ments she  wore,  she  was  adorably  English. 
Leontine  Joos  was  a  pretty  girl;  but,  in  true 
feminine  parlance,  "lumpy."  Some  three 
inches  less  in  height  than  her  "sister,"  she 
probably  weighed  a  stone  more.  Leontine 
trudged  when  she  walked,  Irene  moved  with  a 
grace  which  not  even  a  pair  of  clumsy  sabots 
could  hide.  Luckily  they  were  alike  in  one  im- 
portant particular.  Their  faces  and  hands  were 
soiled,  their  hair  untidy,  and  the  passage 
through  the  wood  had  scratched  foreheads  and 
cheeks  until  the  skin  was  broken,  and  little 
patches  of  congealed  blood  disfigured  them. 

"I  may  look  more  dejected  than  I  feel,"  Dal- 
roy  reassured  her.  "I'm  playing  a  part,  re- 
member. I've  kept  my  head  down  and  my  knees 
bent  until  my  joints  ache." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  she  cooed,  with  a  relieved 
air.  How  could  he  know  then  that  the  sabots 
were  chafing  her  ankles  until  the  pain  had  be- 
come well-nigh  unbearable.  If  she  could  have 
gratified  her  own  wishes  she  would  have  crept 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      153 

to  the  nearest  hedge  and  flung  herself  down  in 
utter  weariness. 

Joos,  having  pondered  the  Englishman's 
views  on  Andenne  as  an  unattainable  refuge, 
scratched  his  head  perplexedly.  "I  think  we 
had  better  go  toward  Herve,"  he  said  at  last. 
"This  is  the  road,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  left. 
"On  the  way  we  can  branch  off.  to  a  farm  I 
know  of,  if  it  happens  to  be  clear  of  soldiers." 

Any  goal  was  preferable  to  none.  They 
entered  the  eastward-bound  road,  but  had  not 
advanced  twenty  yards  along  it  before  the  way 
was  blocked  by  a  mass  of  commissariat  wagons 
and  scores  of  Uhlans  standing  by  their  horses. 

Two  officers,  heedless  who  heard,  were  wran- 
gling loudly. 

"There  is  nothing  else  for  it,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann,"  said  one.  "It  doesn't  matter  who  is 
actually  to  blame.  You  have  taken  the  wrong 
road,  and  must  turn  back.  Every  yard  farther 
in  this  direction  puts  you  deeper  in  the  mire." 

'  *  But  I  was  misdirected  as  far  away  as  Bley- 
berg, ' '  protested  the  other.  ' '  Some  never-to-be- 
forgotten  hound  of  hell  told  me  that  this  was 
the  Verviers  road.  Gott  im  Jiimmel!  and  I 
must  be  there  by  dawn!" 

Dalroy  was  gazing  at  the  wagons.  They 
seemed  oddly  familiar.  The  painted  legend  on 
the  tarpaulins  placed  the  matter  beyond  doubt. 
These  were  the  very  vehicles  he  had  seen  in  the 
station-yard  at  Aix-la-Chapelle ! 

At  this  crisis  Jan  Maertz's  sluggish  brain 


154  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

evolved  a  really  clever  notion.  The  Germans 
wanted  a  guide,  and  who  so  well  qualified  for 
the  post  as  a  carter  to  whom  each  turn  and  twist 
in  every  road  in  the  province  was  familiar? 
Without  consulting  any  one,  he  pushed  forward. 
11  Pardon,  Herr  General/'  he  said  in  his  offhand 
way.  "Give  me  and  my  friends  a  lift,  and  I'll 
have  you  and  your  wagons  in  Verviers  in  three 
hours." 

Brutality  is  so  engrained  in  the  Prussian  that 
an  offer  which  a  man  of  another  race  would 
have  accepted  civilly  was  treated  almost  as  an 
insult  by  the  angry  leader  of  the  convoy. 

"You'll  guide  me  with  the  point  of  a  lance 
close  to  your  liver,  you  Belgian  swine-dog, ' '  was 
the  ungracious  answer. 

'  *  Not  me ! ' '  retorted  Maertz.  * '  Here,  papa ! ' ' 
he  cried  to  Joos,  "show  this  gentleman  your 
paper.  He  can't  go  about  sticking  people  as  he 
likes,  even  in  war-time. ' ' 

Joos  went  forward.  Moved  by  contemptuous 
curiosity,  the  two  officers  examined  the  miller's 
laisser  passer  by  the  light  of  an  electric 
torch. 

The  commissariat  officer  changed  his  tone 
when  he  saw  the  signature.  The  virtue  of  mili- 
tary obedience  becomes  a  grovelling  servitude 
in  the  German  army,  and  a  man  who  was  ready 
to  act  with  the  utmost  unfairness  if  left  to  his 
own  instincts  grew  almost  courteous  at  sight  of 
the  communications  officer's  name.  "Your 
case  is  different,"  he  admitted  grudgingly. 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      155 

"Is  this  your  party?  The  old  man  is  Herr 
Schultz,  I  suppose.  Which  are  you?" 

"I'm  Georges  Lambert,  Herr  General." 

"And  what  do  you  want?" 

"We're  all  going  to  Andenne.  It's  on  the 
paper.  This  infernal  fighting  has  smashed  up 
our  place  at  Aubel,  and  the  women  are  footsore 
and  frightened.  So  is  papa.  Put  them  in  a 
wagon.  Dampier  and  I  can  leg  it." 

The  Prussian  was  becoming  more  civil  each 
moment.  He  realised,  too,  that  this  gruff  fellow 
who  moved  about  the  country  under  such  power- 
ful protection  was  a  veritable  godsend  to  him 
and  his  tired  men. 

"No,  no,"  he  cried,  grown  suddenly  com- 
plaisant, "we  can  do  better  than  that.  I'll 
dump  a  few  trusses  of  hay,  and  put  you  all 
in  the  same  wagon,  which  can  then  take  the 
lead." 

Thus,  by  a  mere  turn  of  fortune's  wheel,  the 
enemy  was  changed  into  a  friend,  and  a  danger- 
ous road  made  safe  and  comfort-giving.  Jan 
sat  in  front  with  the  driver,  and  cracked  jokes 
with  him,  while  the  others  nestled  into  a  load  of 
sweet-smelling  hay. 

"For  the  first  time  in  my  life,"  whispered 
Dalroy  to  Irene,  "I  understand  the  precise  sig- 
nificance of  Samson's  riddle  about  the  honey  ex- 
tracted from  the  lion's  mouth.  Our  heavy- 
witted  Jan  has  saved  the  situation.  We  enter 
Verviers  in  triumph,  and  reach  the  left  of  the 
German  lines.  Just  another  slice  of  luck,  and 


156  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

we  cross  the  Meuse  at  Andenne  or  elsewhere — 
it  doesn't  matter  where." 

Irene  had  kicked  off  those  cruel  sabots.  She 
bit  her  lip  in  the  darkness  to  stifle  a  sob  before 
answering  coolly,  "Shall  we  be  clear  of  the 
Germans  then?" 

"I — hope  so.  Their  armies  dare  not  advance 
so  long  as  we  hear  those  guns. ' ' 

The  girl  could  not  reason  in  the  soldier's  way. 
She  thought  she  would  "hear  those  guns"  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  her  life.  Never  had  she  dreamed 
of  anything  so  horrific  as  that  drumming  of 
cannon.  She  believed,  as  women  do,  that  every 
shell  tore  hundreds  of  human  beings  limb  from 
limb.  In  silent  revolt  against  the  frenzy  which 
seemed  to  possess  the  world,  she  closed  her  eyes 
and  buried  her  head  in  the  hay ;  and  once  again 
exhausted  nature  was  its  own  best  healer. 
When  the  convoy  rumbled  into  Verviers  in  the 
early  morning,  having  followed  a  by-road 
through  Julemont  and  Herve,  Irene  had  to  be 
awaked  out  of  deep  sleep.  Yet  the  boom  of  the 
guns  continued!  Liege  was  still  holding  out,  a 
paranoiac  despot  was  frantic  with  wrath,  and 
civilised  Europe  had  yet  another  day  to  prepare 
for  the  caging  of  the  beast  which  threatened 
its  very  existence. 

The  leader  of  the  convoy  was  greeted  by  a 
furious  staff  officer  in  such  terms  that  Dalroy 
judged  it  expedient  he  and  the  others  should 
slip  away  quietly.  This  they  contrived  to  do. 
Maertz  recommended  an  inn  in  a  side  street, 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      157 

where  they  would  be  welcomed  if  accommoda- 
tion were  available.  And  it  was.  There  were 
no  troops  billeted  in  Verviers.  Every  available 
man  was  being  hurried  to  the  front.  Dalroy 
watched  two  infantry  regiments  passing  while 
Maertz  and  Joos  were  securing  rooms.  Though 
the  soldiers  were  sturdy  fellows,  and  they  could 
not  have  made  an  excessively  long  march,  many 
of  them  limped  badly,  and  only  maintained  their 
places  in  the  ranks  by  force  of  an  iron  disci- 
pline. He  was  puzzled  to  account  for  their 
jaded  aspect.  An  hour  later,  while  lying  awake 
in  a  fairly  comfortable  bed,  and  trying  to  frame 
some  definite  programme  for  the  day  which  had 
already  dawned,  he  solved  the  mystery.  The 
soldiers  were  wearing  new  boots!  Germany 
had  everything  ready  for  her  millions.  He 
learnt  subsequently  that  when  the  German 
armies  entered  the  field  they  were  followed  by 
ammunition  trains  carrying  four  thousand  mil- 
lion rounds  of  small-arm  cartridges  alone ! 

He  met  Joos  and  Maertz  at  dejeuner,  a  rough 
but  satisfying  meal,  and  was  faced  by  the  dis- 
quieting fact  that  neither  Madame  Joos  nor 
Irene  could  leave  the  bedroom  which  they 
shared  with  Leontine.  Madame  was  done  up; 
cette  course  I'a  excede,  her  husband  put  it; 
while  mademoiselle's  ankles  were  swollen  and 
painful. 

These  misfortunes  were,  perhaps,  a  blessing 
in  disguise.  An  enforced  rest  was  better  than 
no  rest  at  all,  and  the  constant  vigil  by  night 


158  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

and  day  was  telling  even  on  the  apple-cheeked 
Leontine. 

Joos  wanted  to  wander  about  the  town  and 
pick  up  news,  but  Dalroy  dissuaded  him.  The 
woman  who  kept  the  little  auberge  was  thor- 
oughly trustworthy,  and  hardly  another  soul  in 
Verviers  knew  of  their  presence  in  the  town. 
News  they  could  do  without,  whereas  recogni- 
tion might  be  fatal. 

Irene  put  in  an  appearance  late  in  the  day. 
She  had  borrowed  a  pair  of  slippers,  and  the 
landlady  had  promised  to  buy  her  a  pair  of 
strong  boots.  Sabots  she  would  never  wear 
again,  she  vowed.  They  might  be  comfortable 
and  watertight  when  one  was  accustomed  to 
them,  but  life  was  too  strenuous  in  Belgium 
just  then  to  permit  of  experiments  in  footgear. 

When  night  fell  Joos  could  not  be  kept  in. 
It  was  understood  that  the  Kommandantur  had 
ordered  all  inhabitants  to  remain  indoors  after 
nine  o  'clock,  so  the  old  man  had  hardly  an  hour 
at  his  disposal  for  what  he  called  a  petit  tour. 
But  he  was  not  long  absent.  He  had  encoun- 
tered a  friend,  a  cure  whose  church  near  Aubel 
had  been  blown  to  atoms  by  German  artillery 
during  a  frontier  fight  on  the  Monday  after- 
noon. 

This  gentleman,  a  venerable  ecclesiastic,  dis- 
covered Dalroy 's  nationality  after  five  minutes' 
chat.  He  had  in  his  possession  a  copy  of  a 
proclamation  issued  by  Von  Emmich.  It  began : 
"I  regret  very  much  to  find  that  German  troops 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      159 

are  compelled  to  cross  the  frontier  of  Belgium. 
They  are  constrained  to  do  so  by  sheer  neces- 
sity, the  neutrality  of  Belgium  having  already 
been  violated  by  French  officers,  who,  in  dis- 
guise, have  passed  through  Belgian  territory  in 
an  automobile  in  order  to  penetrate  Germany. ' ' 

The  cure,  whose  name  was  Gamier,  laughed 
sarcastically  at  the  childishness  of  the  pretext 
put  forward  by  the  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Army  of  the  Meuse.  "Was  war  waged  for  such 
a  flimsy  reason  ever  before  in  the  history  of  the 
world?"  he  said.  "What  fire-eaters  these  'dis- 
guised' French  officers  must  have  been!  Imag- 
ine the  hardihood  of  the  braves  who  would 
'penetrate'  mighty  Germany  in  one  automo- 
bile! This  silly  lie  bears  the  date  of  4th  Au- 
gust, yet  my  beloved  church  was  then  in  ruins, 
and  a  large  part  of  the  village  in  flames ! ' ' 

"  Verviers  seems  to  have  escaped  punishment. 
How  do  you  account  for  it?"  inquired  Dalroy. 

' '  It  seems  to  be  a  deliberate  policy  on  the  part 
of  the  Germans  to  spare  one  town  and  destroy 
another.  Both  serve  as  examples,  the  one  as 
typical  of  the  excellent  treatment  meted  out  to 
those  communities  which  welcome  the  invaders, 
the  other  as  a  warning  of  the  fate  attending 
resistance.  Both  instances  are  absolutely  un- 
true. Every  burgomaster  in  Belgium  has  is- 
sued notices  calling  on  non-combatants  to  avoid 
hostile  acts,  and  Verviers  is  exactly  on  a  par 
with  the  other  unfortified  towns  in  this  part  of 
the  country.  The  truth  is,  monsieur,  that  the 


160  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Germans  are  furious  because  of  the  delay  our 
gallant  soldiers  have  imposed  on  them.  It  is 
bearing  fruit  too.  I  hear  that  England  has  al- 
ready landed  an  army  at  Ostend." 

Dalroy  shook  his  head.  "I  wish  I  might 
credit  that,"  he  said  sadly.  "I  am  a  soldier, 
monsieur,  and  you  may  take  it  from  me  that 
such  a  feat  is  quite  impossible  in  the  time. 
We  might  send  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  men 
by  the  end  of  this  week,  and  another  similar 
contingent  by  the  end  of  next  week.  But  months 
must  elapse  before  we  can  put  in  the  field  an 
army  big  enough  to  make  headway  against  the 
swarms  of  Germans  I  have  seen  with  my  own 
eyes.*' 

11  Months!"  gasped  the  cure.  "Then  what 
will  become  of  my  unhappy  country?  Even 
to-day  we  are  living  on  hope.  Liege  still  holds 
out,  and  the  people  are  saying,  'The  English 
are  coming,  all  will  be  well ! '  A  man  was  shot 
to-day  in  this  very  town  for  making  that  state- 
ment." 

"He  must  have  been  a  fool  to  voice  his  views 
in  the  presence  of  German  troops. ' ' 

The  priest  spread  wide  his  hands  in  sorrow- 
ful gesture.  "You  don't  understand,"  he  said. 
"Belgium  is  overrun  with  spies.  It  is  posi- 
tively dangerous  to  utter  an  opinion  in  any 
mixed  company.  One  or  two  of  the  bystanders 
will  certainly  be  in  the  pay  of  the  enemy. ' ' 

Though  the  cure  was  now  on  surer  ground 
than  when  he  spoke  of  a  British  army  on  Bel- 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      161 

gian  soil,  Dalroy  egged  him  on  to  talk.  "My 
chief  difficulty  is  to  know  how  the  money  was 
raised  to  support  all  these  agencies,"  he  said. 
"Consider,  monsieur.  Germany  maintains  an 
enormous  army.  She  has  a  fleet  second  only  to 
that  of  Britain.  She  finances  her  traders  and 
subsidises  her  merchant  ships  as  no  other  na- 
tion does.  How  is  it  credible  that  she  should 
also  find  means  to  keep  up  a  secret  service 
which  must  have  cost  millions  sterling  a 
year?" 

"Yes,  you  are  certainly  English,"  said  the 
priest,  with  a  sad  smile.  "You  don't  begin  to 
estimate  the  peculiarities  of  the  German  char- 
acter. We  Belgians,  living,  so  to  speak,  within 
arm's-length  of  Germany,  have  long  seen  the 
danger,  and  feared  it.  Every  German  is  taught 
that  the  world  is  his  for  the  taking.  Every 
German  is  encouraged  in  the  belief  that  the 
national  virtue  of  organised  effort  is  the  one 
and  only  means  of  commanding  success.  Thus, 
the  State  is  everything,  the  individual  nothing. 
But  the  State  rewards  the  individual  for  ser- 
vices rendered.  The  German  dotes  on  titles 
and  decorations,  and  what  easier  way  of  earn- 
ing both  than  to  supply  information  deemed 
valuable  by  the  various  State  departments? 
Plenty  of  wealthy  Germans  in  Belgium  paid 
their  own  spies,  and  used  the  knowledge  so 
gained  for  their  private  ends  as  well  as  for  the 
benefit  of  the  State.  During  the  past  twenty 
years  the  whole  German  race  has  become  a  most 


162  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

efficient  secret  society,  its  members  being 
banded  together  for  their  common  good,  and 
leagued  against  the  rest  of  the  world.  The 
German  never  loses  his  nationality,  no  matter 
how  long  he  may  dwell  in  a  foreign  country. 
My  own  church  claims  to  be  Catholic  and  uni- 
versal, yet  I  would  not  trust  a  German  col- 
league in  any  matter  where  the  interests  of  his 
country  were  at  stake.  The  Germans  are  a 
race  apart,  and  believe  themselves  superior  to 
all  others.  There  was  a  time,  in  my  youth,  when 
Prussia  was  distinct  from  Saxony,  or  Wiirtem- 
berg,  or  Bavaria.  That  feeling  is  dead.  The 
present  Emperor  has  welded  his  people  into  one 
tremendous  machine,  partly  by  playing  upon 
their  vanity,  partly  by  banging  the  German 
drum  during  his  travels,  but  mainly  by  dangling 
before  their  eyes  the  reward  that  men  have 
always  found  irresistible — the  spoliation  of 
other  lands,  the  prospect  of  sudden  enrichment. 
Every  soldier  marching  past  this  house  at  the 
present  moment  hopes  to  rob  Belgium  and 
France.  And  now  England  is  added  to  the  en- 
ticing list  of  well-stocked  properties  that  may 
be  lawfully  burgled.  I  am  no  prophet,  mon- 
sieur. I  am  only  an  old  man  who  has  watched 
the  upspringing  of  a  new  and  terrible  force  in 
European  politics.  I  may  live  an  hour  or  ten 
years ;  but  if  God  spares  me  for  the  latter  period 
I  shall  see  Germany  either  laid  in  the  dust  by 
an  enraged  world  or  dominating  the  earth  by 
brutal  conquest." 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      163 

But  for  the  outbreak  of  the  war  Dalroy  would 
have  passed  the  ''interpreter"  test  in  German 
some  few  weeks  later.  He  had  spent  his 
"language  leave"  in  Berlin,  and  was  neces- 
sarily familiar  with  German  thought  and  lit- 
erature. Often  had  he  smiled  at  Teutonic 
boastfulness.  Now  the  simple  words  of  an  aged 
village  cure  had  given  a  far-reaching  and  sin- 
ister meaning  to  much  that  had  seemed  the  mere 
froth  of  a  vigorous  race  fermenting  in  success- 
ful trade. 

"Do  you  believe  that  the  German  colony  in 
England  pursues  the  same  methods?"  he  asked, 
and  his  heart  sank  as  he  recalled  the  wealth  and 
social  standing  of  the  horde  of  Germans  in  the 
British  Isles. 

' '  Can  the  leopard  change  his  spots  f ' '  quoted' 
the  other.  "A  year  ago  one  of  my  friends,  a 
maker  of  automobiles,  thought  I  needed  a  holi- 
day. He  took  me  to  England.  God  has  been 
good  to  Britain,  monsieur!  He  has  given  you 
riches  and  power.  But  you  are  grown  careless. 
I  stayed  in  five  big  hotels,  two  in  London  and 
three  in  the  provinces.  They  were  all  run  by 
Germans.  I  made  inquiries,  thinking  I  might 
benefit  some  of  my  village  lads ;  but  the  German 
managers  would  employ  none  save  German 
waiters,  German  cooks,  German  reception 
clerks.  Your  hall  porters  were  Germans.  You 
never  cared  to  reflect,  I  suppose,  that  hotels  are 
the  main  arteries  of  a  country's  life.  But  the 
canker  did  not  end  there.  Your  mills  and  col- 


164  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

lieries  were  installing  German  plant  under  Ger- 
man supervisors.  Your  banks " 

The  speaker  paused  dramatically. 

"But  our  God  is  not  a  German  God!"  he 
cried,  and  his  sunken  eyes  seemed  to  shoot  fire. 
"Last  night,  listening  to  the  guns  that  were 
murdering  Belgium,  I  asked  myself,  Why  does 
Heaven  permit  this  crime?  And  the  answer 
came  swiftly:  German  influences  were  poison- 
ing the  world.  They  had  to  be  eradicated,  or 
mankind  would  sink  into  the  bottomless  pit.  So 
God  has  sent  this  war.  Be  of  good  heart. 
Eemember  the  words  of  Saint  Paul :  '  So  also 
is  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  It  is  sown  in 
corruption;  it  is  raised  in  incorruption.  It  is 
sown  in  dishonour;  it  is  raised  in  glory.  It  is 
sown  in  weakness;  it  is  raised  in  power.'  " 

The  cure's  voice  had  unconsciously  attained 
the  pulpit  pitch.  The  clear,  incisive  accents 
reached  other  ears. 

The  landlady  crept  in,  with  a  face  of  scare. 
"Monsieur!"  she  whispered,  "the  doors  are 
wide  open.  It  is  an  order ! ' ' 

Dalroy  went  rapidly  into  the  street.  No 
loiterer  was  visible.  Not  even  a  crowd  of  five 
persons  might  gather  to  watch  the  military 
pageant;  it  was  verboten.  And  ever  the  dim 
shapes  flitted  by  in  the  night — horse,  foot,  and 
artillery,  automobiles,  ambulance  and  trans- 
port wagons.  There  seemed  no  end  to  this  flux 
of  gray-green  gnomes.  The  air  was  tremulous 
with  the  unceasing  hammer- strokes  of  heavy 


EXPOSITION  OF  GERMAN  METHODS      165 

guns  on  the  anvil  of  Liege.  Staid  old  Europe 
might  be  dissolving  even  then  in  a  cloud  of  high- 
explosive  gas. 

The  scheme  of  things  was  all  awry.  One 
Englishman  gave  up  the  riddle.  He  turned  on 
his  heel,  and  lit  one  of  the  cheap  cigars  pur- 
chased in  Aix-la-Chapelle  less  than  forty-eight 
hours  ago! 


CHAPTER  X 

ANDENNE 

MADAME  Joos  was  old  for  her  fifty  years,  and 
heavy  withal.  Hers  was  not  the  finer  quality  of 
human  clay  which  hardens  in  the  fire  of  ad- 
versity. She  became  ill,  almost  seriously  ill, 
and  had  to  be  nursed  back  into  good  health 
again  during  nine  long  days.  And  long  these 
days  were,  the  longest  Dalroy  had  ever  known. 
To  a  man  of  his  temperament,  enforced  inactiv- 
ity was  anathema  in  any  conditions ;  a  gnawing 
doubt  that  he  was  not  justified  in  remaining  in 
Verviers  at  all  did  not  improve  matters.  Mon- 
sieur Garnier,  the  cure,  was  a  frequent  though 
unobtrusive  visitor.  He  doctored  the  invalid, 
and  brought  scraps  of  accurate  information 
which  filtered  through  the  far-flung  screen  of 
Uhlans  and  the  dense  lines  of  German  infantry 
and  guns.  Thus  the  fugitives  knew  when  and 
where  the  British  Expeditionary  Force  actually 
landed  on  the  Continent.  They  heard  of  the 
gradual  sapping  of  the  defences  of  Liege,  until 
Fort  Loncin  fell,  and,  with  it,  as  events  were 
to  prove,  the  shield  which  had  protected  Bel- 
gium for  nearly  a  fortnight.  The  respite  did 
not  avail  King  Albert  and  his  heroic  people 
in  so  far  as  the  occupation  and  ravaging  of 
their  beautiful  country  was  concerned;  but 

166 


ANDENNE  167 


calm-eyed  historians  in  years  to  come  will  ap- 
praise at  its  true  value  the  breathing-space, 
slight  though  it  was,  thus  secured  for  France 
and  England. 

Dalroy  found  it  extraordinarily  difficult  to 
sift  the  true  from  the  false  in  the  crop  of  con- 
flicting rumours.  In  the  first  instance,  Ger- 
man legends  had  to  be  discounted.  From  the 
outset  of  the  campaign  the  Kaiser 's  armies 
were  steadily  regaled  with  accounts  of  phe- 
nomenal successes  elsewhere.  Thus,  when  four 
army  corps,  commanded  now  by  Von  Kluck, 
were  nearly  demoralised  by  the  steadfast 
valour  of  General  Leman  and  his  stalwarts,  the 
men  were  rallied  by  being  told  that  the  Crown 
Prince  was  smashing  his  way  to  Paris  through 
Nancy  and  Verdun.  Prodigies  were  being  per- 
formed in  Poland  and  the  North  Sea,  and  Lon- 
don was  burnt  by  Zeppelins  almost  daily.  Nor 
did  Belgian  imagination  lag  far  behind  in  this 
contest  of  unveracity.  British  and  French 
troops  were  marching  to  the  Meuse  by  a  dozen 
roads;  the  French  raid  into  Alsace  was  mag- 
nified into  a  great  military  feat;  the  British 
fleet  had  squelched  the  German  navy  by  sink- 
ing nineteen  battleships;  the  Kaiser,  haggard 
and  blear-eyed,  was  alternately  degrading  and 
shooting  Generals  and  issuing  flamboyant 
proclamations.  Finally,  Russia  was  flattening 
out  East  Prussia  and  Galicia  with  the  slow 
crunching  of  a  steam  roller. 

Out  of  this  maelstrom  of  "news"  a  level- 


168  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

headed  soldier  might,  and  did,  extract  certain 
hard  facts.  The  landing  of  Sir  John  French's 
force  took  place  exactly  at  the  time  and  place 
and  in  the  numbers  Dalroy  himself  had  esti- 
mated. To  throw  a  small  army  into  Flanders 
would  have  been  folly.  Obviously,  the  British 
must  join  hands  with  the  French  before  offering 
battle.  For  the  rest — though  he  went  out  very 
little,  and  alone,  as  being  less  risky — he  recog- 
nised the  hour  when  the  German  machine  recov- 
ered its  momentum  after  the  first  unexpected 
collapse.  He  saw  order  replace  chaos.  He 
watched  the  dragon  crawling  ever  onward,  and 
understood  then  that  no  act  of  man  could  save 
Belgium.  Verviers  was  the  best  possible  site 
for  an  observer  who  knew  how  to  use  his  eyes. 
He  assumed  that  what  was  occurring  there  was 
going  on  with  equal  precision  in  Luxembourg 
and  along  the  line  of  the  Vosges  Mountains. 

Gradually,  too,  he  reconciled  his  conscience 
to  these  days  of  waiting.  He  believed  now  that 
his  services  would  be  immensely  more  useful  to 
the  British  commander-in-chief  in  the  field  if  he 
could  cross  the  French  frontier  rather  than 
reach  London  and  the  War  Office  by  way  of 
the  Belgian  coast.  This  decision  lightened  his 
heart.  He  was  beginning  to  fear  that  the  wel- 
fare of  Irene  Beresford  was  conflicting  with 
duty.  It  was  cheering  to  feel  convinced  that 
the  odds  and  ends  of  information  picked  up  in 
Verviers  might  prove  of  inestimable  value  to 
the  allied  cause.  For  instance,  Liege  was  being 


ANDENNE  169 


laid  low  by  eleven-inch  howitzers,  but  he  had 
seen  seventeen-inch  howitzers,  each  in  three 
parts,  each  part  drawn  by  forty  horses  or  a 
dozen  traction-engines,  moving  slowly  toward 
the  south-west.  There  lay  Namur  and  France. 
No  need  to  doubt  now  where  the  chief  theatre 
of  the  war  would  find  its  habitat.  The  German 
staff  had  blundered  in  its  initial  strategy,  but 
the  defect  was  being  repaired.  All  that  had 
gone  before  was  a  mere  prelude  to  the  grim 
business  which  would  be  transacted  beyond  the 
Meuse. 

During  that  period  of  quiescence,  certain 
minor  and  personal  elements  affecting  the  fu- 
ture passed  from  a  nebulous  stage  to  a  state  of 
quasi-acceptance.  There  was  not,  there  could 
not  be,  any  pronounced  love-making  between 
two  people  so  situated  as  Dalroy  and  Irene 
Beresford.  But  eyes  can  exchange  messages 
which  the  lips  dare  not  utter,  and  these  two 
began  to  realise  that  they  were  designed  the 
one  for  the  other  by  a  wise  Providence.  As 
that  is  precisely  the  right  sentiment  of  young 
folk  in  love,  romance  throve  finely  in  Madame 
Beranger's  little  auberge  in  the  Rue  de  Nivers 
at  Verviers.  A  tender  glance,  a  touch  of  the 
hand,  a  lighting  of  a  troubled  face  when  the 
dear  one  appears — these  things  are  excellent 
substitutes  for  the  spoken  word. 

Irene  was  " Irene"  to  Dalroy  ever  since  that 
night  in  the  wood  at  Argenteau,  and  the  girl 
herself  accepted  the  development  with  the  deft- 


170  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

ness  which  is  every  woman's  legacy  from 
Mother  Eve. 

"If  you  make  free  with  my  Christian  name 
I  must  retort  by  using  yours,"  she  said  one  day 
on  coming  down  to  breakfast.  "  So,  'Good- 
morning,  Arthur.'  Where  did  you  get  that 
hat?" 

The  hat  in  question  was  a  purchase,  a  wide- 
brimmed  felt  such  as  is  common  in  Flanders. 
Its  Apache  slouch,  in  conjunction  with  Jan 
Maertz's  oldest  clothes  and  a  week's  stubble  of 
beard,  made  Dalroy  quite  villainous-looking. 
Except  in  the  details  of  height  and  physique,  it 
would,  indeed,  be  difficult  for  any  stranger  to 
associate  this  loose-limbed  Belgian  labourer 
with  the  well-groomed  cavalry  officer  who  en- 
tered the  Friedrich  Strasse  Station  in  Berlin 
on  the  night  of  3rd  August.  That  was  as  it 
should  be,  though  the  alteration  was  none  the 
less  displeasing  to  its  victim.  Irene  adopted 
a  huge  sun-bonnet,  and  compromised  as  to  boots 
by  wearing  sabots  en  cuir,  or  clogs. 

Singularly  enough,  white-haired  Monsieur 
Garnier  nearly  brought  matters  to  a  climax  as 
between  these  two. 

On  the  Wednesday  evening,  when  the  last 
forts  of  Liege  were  crumbling,  Madame  Joos 
was  reported  convalescent  and  asleep,  so  both 
girls  came  to  the  little  salon  for  a  supper  of 
stewed  veal. 

Naturally  the  war  was  discussed  first;  but 
the  priest  was  learning  to  agree  with  his  Eng- 


ANDENNE  171 


lish  friend  about  its  main  features.  In  sheer 
dismay  at  the  black  outlook  before  his  country, 
he  suddenly  turned  the  talk  into  a  more  inti- 
mate channel. 

"What  plans  have  you  youngsters  made?" 
he  askedi  ' '  Monsieur  Joos  and  I  can  only  look 
back  through  the  years.  The  places  we  know 
and  love  are  abodes  of  ghosts.  The  milestones 
are  tombstones.  We  can  surely  count  more 
friends  dead  than  living.  For  you  it  is  dif- 
ferent. The  world  will  go  on,  war  or  no  war; 
but  Verviers  will  not  become  your  residence,  I 
take  it." 

"Jan  and  I  mean  to  join  our  respective 
armies  as  soon  as  Monsieur  Joos  and  the  ladies 
are  taken  care  of,  and  that  means,  I  suppose, 
safely  lodged  in  England, ' '  said  Dalroy. 

"If  Leontine  likes  to  marry  me  first,  I'm 
agreeable,"  put  in  Maertz  promptly. 

It  was  a  naive  confession,  and  every  one 
laughed  except  Joos. 

"Leontine  marries  neither  you  nor  any  other 
hulking  loafer  while  there  is  one  German  hoof 
left  in  Belgium, ' '  vowed  the  little  man  warmly. 

The  priest  smiled.  He  knew  where  the  shoe 
pinched.  Maertz,  if  no  loafer,  was  not  what  is 
vulgarly  described  as  "a  good  catch." 

"I've  lost  my  parish,"   he   said  jestingly, 

"and,  being  an  inveterate  match-maker,  am  on 

the  qui  vive  for  a  job.    But  if  father  says  'No' 

.we  must  wait  till  mother  has  a  word.    Now  for 

the  other  pair. — What  of  you?" 


172  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Irene  blushed  scarlet,  and  dropped  her  ser- 
viette; Dalroy,  though  flabbergasted,  happily 
hit  on  a  way  out. 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,  monsieur!"  he  cried. 
"Look  at  mademoiselle,  and  then  run  your  eye 
over  me.  Did  ever  pretty  maid  wed  such  a 
scarecrow?" 

"I  must  refer  that  point  to  mademoiselle," 
retorted  the  priest.  "I  don't  think  either  of 
you  would  choose  a  book  by  the  cover. ' ' 

"Ah.  At  last  I  know  the  worst,"  laughed 
Dalroy.  *  *  Who  would  believe  that  I  once  posed 
as  the  Discobulus  in  a  tableau  vivant?" 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Joos. 

Dalroy  hesitated.  Neither  his  French  nor 
German  was  equal  to  the  translation. 

"A  quoit-thrower,"  suggested  Irene. 

"Quoits!"  sniffed  the  miller.  "I'll  take  you 
on  at  that  game  any  day  you  like  for  twenty 
francs  every  ringer. ' ' 

It  was  a  safe  offer.  Old  Joos  was  a  noted 
player.  He  gave  details  of  his  prowess.  Dal- 
roy, though  modestly  declining  a  contest,  led 
him  on,  and  steered  the  conversation  clear  of 
rocks. 

Thenceforth,  for  a  whole  day,  Irene 's  manner 
stiffened  perceptibly,  and  Dalroy  was  miserable. 
Inexperienced  in  the  ways  of  the  sex,  he  little 
dreamed  that  Irene  felt  she  had  been  literally 
thrown  at  his  head. 

But  graver  issues  soon  dispersed  that  small 
cloud.  On  Saturday,  15th  August,  the  thunder 


ANDENNE  173 


of  the  guns  lessened  and  died  down,  being  re- 
placed by  the  far  more  distant  and  fitful  bark- 
ing of  field  batteries.  But  the  rumble  on  the 
cobbles  of  the  main  road  continued.  What  need 
to  ask  what  had  happened?  Around  Liege  lay 
the  silence  of  death. 

Late  that  afternoon  a  woman  brought  a  note 
to  Dalroy.  It  bore  no  address.  She  merely 
handed  it  to  him,  and  hurried  off,  with  the  fur- 
tive air  of  one  afraid  of  being  asked  for  an 
explanation.  It  ran : 

"DEAR  FRIEND, — Save  yourself  and  the 
others.  Lose  not  a  moment.  I  have  seen  a 
handbill.  A  big  reward  is  offered.  My  advice 
is:  go  west  separately.  The  messenger  I  em- 
ploy is  a  Christian,  but  I  doubt  the  faith  of 
many.  May  God  guard  you!  I  shall  accom- 
pany you  in  my  thoughts  and  prayers. — E.  G." 

Dalroy  found  Joos  instantly. 

1  'What  is  our  cure's  baptismal  name?"  he 
inquired. 

"Edouard,  monsieur." 

"He  has  sent  us  marching  orders.  Read 
that!" 

The  miller's  wizened  face  blanched.  He  had 
counted  on  remaining  in  Verviers  till  the  war 
was  over.  At  that  date  no  self-respecting  Bel- 
gian could  bring  himself  to  believe  that  the 
fighting  would  continue  into  the  winter.  The 
first  comparative  successes  of  the  small  Bel- 
gian army,  combined  with  the  meteoric  French 
advance  into  Alsace,  seemed  to  assure  speedy 


174  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

victory  by  the  Allies.  He  swore  roundly,  but 
decided  to  follow  the  priest's  bidding  in  every 
respect  save  one. 

"We  can't  split  up,"  he  declared.  "We  are 
all  named  in  the  laisser  passer.  You  under- 
stand what  dull  pigs  these  Germans  are. 
They'll  count  heads.  If  one  is  missing,  or 
there's  one  too  many,  they'll  inquire  about  it 
for  a  week." 

Sound  common-sense  and  no  small  knowledge 
of  Teuton  character  lurked  in  the  old  man's 
comment.  Monsieur  Gamier,  of  course,  had 
not  been  told  why  this  queerly  assorted  group 
clung  together,  nor  was  he  aware  of  the  exact 
cause  of  their  flight  from  Vise.  Probably  the 
handbill  he  mentioned  was  explicit  in  names 
and  descriptions.  At  any  rate,  he  must  have 
the  strongest  reasons  for  supposing  that  Ver- 
viers  no  longer  provided  a  safe  retreat. 

Jan  Maertz  was  summoned.  He  made  a  good 
suggestion.  The  direct  road  to  Andenne,  via 
Liege  and  Huy,  was  impracticable,  being 
crowded  with  troops  and  transports.  Why  not 
use  the  country  lanes  from  Pepinster  through 
Louveigne,  Hanoir,  and  Maffe?  It  was  a  hilly 
country,  and  probably  clear  of  soldiers.  He 
would  buy  a  dog-team,  and  thus  save  Madame 
Joos  the  fatigue  of  walking. 

Dalroy  agreed  at  once.  Even  though  Irene 
still  insisted  on  sharing  his  effort  to  cross  the 
German  lines,  two  routes  opened  from  An- 
denne, one  to  Brussels  and  the  west,  the  other 


ANDENNE  175 


to  Dinant  and  the  south.  Moreover,  he  counted 
on  the  Allies  occupying  the  Mons-Charleroi- 
Namur  terrain,  and  one  night's  march  from 
Andenne,  with  Maertz  as  guide,  should  bring 
the  three  of  them  through,  as  the  Joos  family, 
in  all  likelihood,  would  elect  to  remain  with 
their  relatives. 

In  a  word,  the  orderliness  of  Verviers  had 
already  relegated  the  excesses  of  Vise  to  the 
obscurity  of  an  evil  but  half-forgotten  dream. 
The  horrors  of  Louvain,  of  Malines,  of  the 
whole  Belgian  valley  of  the  Meuse,  had  yet  to 
come.  An  officer  of  the  British  army  simply 
could  not  allow  his  mind  to  conceive  the  pur- 
poseful criminality  of  German  methods.  Little 
did  he  imagine  that,  on  the  very  day  the  fugi- 
tives set  out  for  Andenne,  Vise  was  completely 
sacked  and  burned  by  command  of  the  German 
authorities.  And  why?  Not  because  of  any 
fault  committed  by  the  unfortunate  inhabitants, 
who  had  suffered  so  much  at  the  outbreak  of 
hostilities.  This  second  avalanche  was  let 
loose  out  of  sheer  spite.  By  this  time  the  enemy 
was  commencing  to  estimate  the  fearful  toll 
which  the  Belgian  army  had  taken  of  the 
Uhlans  who  provided  the  famous  "cavalry 
screen."  Over  and  over  again  the  vaunted 
light  horsemen  of  Germany  were  ambuscaded 
and  cut  up  or  captured.  They  proved  to  be 
extraordinarily  poor  fighters  when  in  small 
numbers,  but  naturally  those  who  got  away 
made  a  fine  tale  of  the  dangers  they  had  es- 


176  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

caped.  These  constant  defeats  stung  the  pride 
of  the  headquarters  staff,  and  "frightfulness" 
was  prescribed  as  the  remedy.  The  fact  cannot 
be  disputed.  The  invaders'  earliest  offences 
might  be  explained,  if  not  condoned,  as  the 
deeds  of  men  brutalised  by  drink,  but  the 
wholesale  ravaging  of  communities  by  regi- 
ments and  brigades  was  the  outcome  of  a  de- 
liberate policy  of  reprisal.  The  Hun  argument 
was  convincing — to  the  Hun  intellect.  How 
dared  these  puny  Belgians  fight  for  their 
hearths  and  homes'?  It  was  their  place  to 
grovel  at  the  feet  of  the  conqueror.  If  any 
worn-out  notions  of  honour  and  manhood  and 
the  sanctity  of  woman  inspired  them  to  take 
the  field,  they  must  be  taught  wisdom  by  being 
ground  beneath  the  heel  of  the  Prussian  jack- 
boot. 

If  the  dead  mouths  of  five  thousand  mur- 
dered Belgians  did  not  bear  testimony  against 
these  disciplined  marauders,  the  mere  journey 
of  the  little  party  of  men  and  women  who  set 
out  from  Verviers  that  Saturday  afternoon 
would  itself  dispose  of  any  attempt  to  cloak  the 
high-placed  offenders. 

They  arranged  a  rendezvous  at  Pepinster. 
Dalroy  went  alone.  He  insisted  that  this  was 
advisable.  Maertz  brought  Madame  Joos  and 
Irene.  Joos,  having  been  besought  to  curb  his 
tongue,  convoyed  Leontine.  Until  Pepinster 
was  reached,  they  took  the  main  road,  with  its 
river  of  troops.  None  gave  them  heed.  Not 


ANDENNE  177 


a  man  addressed  an  uncivil  word  to  them.  The 
soldiers  were  cheery  and  well-behaved. 

They  halted  that  night  at  Louveigne,  which 
was  absolutely  unscathed.  Next  day  they 
passed  through  Hamoir  and  Maffe,  and  the 
peasants  were  gathering  the  harvest! 

Huy  and  Andenne,  a  villager  told  them,  were 
occupied  by  the  Germans,  but  all  was  quiet. 
They  pushed  on,  turning  north-west  from 
Maffe,  and  descended  into  the  Meuse  valley 
about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  was  omi- 
nous that  the  bridge  was  destroyed  and  a  cluster 
of  houses  burning  in  Seilles,  a  town  on  the  op- 
posite, or  left,  bank  of  the  river.  But  An- 
denne itself,  a  peaceful  and  industrious  place, 
seemed  to  be  undisturbed.  While  passing  a 
farm  known  as  Dermine  they  fell  in  with  a 
priest  and  a  few  Belgians  who  were  carrying 
a  mortally  wounded  Prussian  officer  on  a 
stretcher. 

Then,  to  his  real  chagrin,  Dalroy  heard  that 
the  Belgian  outposts  had  been  driven  south 
and  west  only  that  morning.  One  day  less  in 
Verviers,  and  he  and  the  others  would  have 
been  out  of  their  present  difficulties.  How- 
ever, he  made  the  best  of  it.  Surely  they  could 
either  cross  the  Meuse  or  reach  Namur  next 
day;  while  the  fact  that  some  local  residents 
were  attending  to  the  injured  officer  would  sup- 
ply the  fugitives  with  an  excellent  safe-conduct 
into  Andenne,  just  as  a  similar  incident  had 
been  their  salvation  at  Argenteau. 


178  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

The  stretcher  was  taken  into  the  villa  of  a 
well-to-do  resident;  and,  it  being  still  broad 
daylight,  Joos  asked  to  be  directed  to  the  house 
of  Monsieur  Alphonse  Stauwaert.  The  miller 
was  acquainted  with  the  topography  of  the 
town,  but  the  Stauwaert:  family  had  moved  re- 
cently to  a  new  abode. 

"Barely  two  hundred  metres,  tout  droit,"  he 
was  told. 

They  had  gone  part  of  the  way  when  a  troop 
of  Uhlans  came  at  the  gallop  along  the  Namur 
road.  The  soldiers  advanced  in  a  pack,  and 
were  evidently  in  a  hurry.  Madame  Joos  was 
seated  in  the  low-built,  flat  cart,  drawn  by  two 
strong  dogs,  which  had  brought  her  from 
Verviers.  Maertz  was  leading  the  animals. 
The  other  four  were  disposed  on  both  sides  of 
the  cart.  At  the  moment,  no  other  person  was 
nearer  than  some  thirty  yards  ahead.  Three 
men  were  standing  there  in  the  roadway,  and 
they  moved  closer  to  the  houses  on  the  left. 
Maertz,  too,  pulled  his  team  on  to  the  pavement 
on  the  same  side. 

The  Uhlans  came  on.  Suddenly,  without  the 
slightest  provocation,  their  leader  swerved  his 
horse  and  cut  down  one  of  the  men,  who 
dropped  with  a  shriek  of  mingled  fear  and 
agony. 

Eetribution  came  swiftly,  because  the  charger 
slipped  on  some  rounded  cobbles,  crossed  its 
forelegs,  and  turned  a  complete  somersault. 
The  rider,  a  burly  non-commissioned  officer, 


ANDENNE  179 


pitched  clean  on  his  head,  and  either  fractured 
his  skull  or  broke  his  neck,  perhaps  achieving 
both  laudable  results,  while  his  blood-stained 
sabre  clattered  on  the  stones  at  Dalroy 's  feet. 
The  nearest  Uhlans  drove  their  lances  through 
the  other  two  civilians,  who  were  already  run- 
ning for  their  lives.  In  order  to  avoid  the 
plunging  horse  and  their  fallen  leader,  the  two 
ruffians  reined  on  to  the  pavement.  They 
swurig  their  weapons,  evidently  meaning  to 
transfix  some  of  the  six  people  clustered  around 
the  cart.  The  women  screamed  shrilly.  Leon- 
tine  cowered  near  the  wall;  Joos,  valiant  soul 
in  an  aged  body,  put  himself  in  front  of  his 
wife ;  Maertz,  hauling  at  the  dogs,  tried  to  con- 
vert the  vehicle  into  a  shield  for  Leontine ;  while 
Dalroy,  conscious  that  Irene  was  close  behind, 
picked  up  the  unteroffizier's  sword. 

Much  to  the  surprise  of  the  trooper,  who 
selected  this  tall  peasant  as  an  easy  prey,  he 
parried  the  lance-thrust  in  such  wise  that  the 
blade  entered  the  horse's  off  foreleg  and 
brought  the  animal  down.  At  the  same  instant 
Maertz  ducked,  and  dodged  a  wild  lunge,  which 
missed  because  the  Uhlan  was  trying  to  avoid 
crashing  into  the  cart.  But  the  vengeful  steel 
found  another  victim.  By  mischance  it  trans- 
fixed Madame  Joos,  while  the  horse's  shoulder 
caught  Dalroy  a  glancing  blow  in  the  back  and 
sent  him  sprawling. 

Some  of  the  troopers,  seeing  two  of  their 
men  prone,  were  pulling  up  when  a  gruff  voice 


180  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

cried,  tl Achtungl  We'll  clear  out  these  swine 
later!" 

Irene,  who  saw  all  that  had  passed  with  an 
extraordinary  vividness,  was  the  only  one  who 
understood  why  the  order  which  undoubtedly 
saved  five  lives  was  given.  A  stout  staff  officer, 
wearing  a  blue  uniform  with  red  facings,  rode 
with  the  Uhlans,  and  she  was  certain  that  he 
was  in  a  state  of  abject  terror.  His  funk  was 
probably  explained  by  an  irregular  volley  lower 
down  the  street,  though,  in  the  event,  the 
shooting  proved  to  be  that  of  his  own  men. 
Two  miles  away,  at  Solayn,  these  same  Uhlans 
had  been  badly  bitten  by  a  Belgian  patrol,  and 
the  fat  man,  prospecting  the  Namur  road  with 
a  cavalry  escort,  wanted  no  more  unpleasant 
surprises  that  evening.  Ostensibly,  of  course, 
he  was  anxious  to  report  to  a  brigade  head- 
quarters at  Huy.  At  any  rate,  the  Uhlans 
swept  on. 

They  were  gone  when  Dalroy  regained  his 
feet.  A  riderless  horse  was  clattering  after 
them;  another  with  a  broken  leg  was  vainly 
trying  to  rise.  Close  at  hand  lay  two  Uhlans, 
one  dead  and  one  insensible.  Joos  and  Leon- 
tine  were  bending  over  the  dying  woman  in  the 
cart,  making  frantic  efforts  to  stanch  the  blood 
welling  forth  from  mouth  and  breast.  The 
lance  had  pierced  her  lungs,  but  she  was  con- 
scious for  a  minute  or  so,  and  actually  smiled 
the  farewell  she  could  not  utter. 

Maertz  was  swearing  horribly,  with  the  in- 


ANDENNE  181 


coherence  of  a  man  just  aroused  from  drunken 
sleep.  Irene  moved  a  few  steps  to  meet  Dal- 
roy.  Her  face  was  marble  white,  her  eyes 
strangely  dilated. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  she  asked. 

"No.    And  you?" 

"Untouched,  thanks  to  you.  But  those 
brutes  have  killed  poor  Madame  Joos ! ' ' 

The  wounded  Uhlan  was  stretched  between 
them.  He  stirred  convulsively,  and  groaned. 
Dalroy  looked  at  the  sword  which  he  still  held. 
He  resisted  a  great  temptation,  and  sprang 
over  the  prostrate  body.  He  was  about  to  say 
something  when  a  ghastly  object  staggered 
past.  It  was  the  man  who  received  the  sabre- 
cut,  which  had  gashed  his  shoulder  deeply. 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!"  he  screamed.  "Oh,  mon 
Dieu!" 

He  may  have  been  making  for  some  burrow. 
They  never  knew.  He  wailed  that  frenzied 
appeal  as  he  shambled  on — always  the  same 
words.  He  could  think  of  nothing  else  but 
the  last  cry  of  despairing  humanity  to  the  All- 
Powerful. 

Owing  to  the  flight  of  the  cavalry,  Dalroy 
imagined  that  some  body  of  allied  troops,  Bel- 
gian or  French,  was  advancing  from  Namur, 
so  he  did  not  obey  his  first  impulse,  which  was 
to  enter  the  nearest  house  and  endeavour  to  get 
away  through  the  gardens  or  other  enclosures 
in  rear. 

He  glanced  at  the  hapless  body  on  the  cart, 


182  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

and  saw  by  the  eyes  that  life  had  departed. 
Leentine  was  sobbing  pitifully.  Maertz,  hav- 
ing recovered  his  senses,  was  striving  to  calm 
her.  But  Joos  remained  silent;  he  held  his 
wife's  limp  hand,  and  it  was  as  though  he 
awaited  some  reassuring  clasp  which  should  tell 
him  that  she  still  lived. 

Dalroy  had  no  words  to  console  the  bereaved 
old  man.  He  turned  aside,  and  a  mist  ob- 
scured his  vision  for  a  little  while.  Then  he 
heard  the  wounded  German  hiccoughing,  and  he 
looked  again  at  the  sword,  because  this  was  the 
assassin  who  had  foully  murdered  a  gentle, 
kind-hearted,  and  inoffensive  woman.  But  he 
could  not  demean  himself  by  becoming  an  exe- 
cutioner. Richly  as  the  criminal  deserved  to  be 
sent  with  his  victim  to  the  bar  of  Eternal  Jus- 
tice, the  Englishman  decided  to  leave  him  to  the 
avengers  coming  through  the  town. 

The  shooting  drew  nearer.  A  number  of 
women  and  children,  with  a  few  men,  appeared. 
They  were  running  and  screaming.  The  first 
batch  fled  past ;  but  an  elderly  dame,  spent  with 
even  a  brief  flurry,  halted  for  a  few  seconds 
when  she  saw  the  group  near  the  dog-team. 

'  *  Henri  Joos ! ' '  she  gasped.  * '  And  Leontine ! 
What,  in  Heaven's  name,  are  you  doing  here?" 

It  was  Madame  Stauwaert,  the  Andenne 
cousin  with  whom  they  hoped  to  find  sanc- 
tuary. 

The  miller  gazed  at  her  in  a  curiously  ab- 
stracted way.  "Is  that  you,  Margot?"  he  said. 


ANDENNE  183 


"We  were  coming  to  you.  But  they  have 
wounded  Lise.  See !  Here  she  is ! " 

Madame  Stauwaert  looked  at  the  corpse  as 
though  she  did  not  understand  at  first.  Then 
she  burst  out  hysterically,  * ' She  's  dead,  Henri ! 
They've  killed  her!  They're  killing  all  of  us! 
They  pulled  Alphonse  out  of  the  house  and 
stabbed  him  with  a  bayonet.  They're  firing 
through  the  openings  into  the  cellars  and  into 
the  ground-floor  rooms  of  every  house.  If 
they  see  a  face  at  a  bedroom  window  they  shoot. 
Two  Germans,  so  drunk  that  they  could  hardly 
stand,  shot  at  me  as  I  ran.  Ah,  dear  God ! ' ' 

She  swayed  and  sank  in  a  faint.  The  flying 
crowd  increased  in  numbers.  Some  one 
shouted,  * '  Fools !  Be  off,  for  your  lives !  Make 
for  the  quarries." 

Dalroy  decided  to  take  this  unknown  friend's 
advice.  The  terrified  people  of  Andenne  had, 
at  least,  some  definite  goal  in  view,  whereas  he 
had  none.  He  lifted  Madame  Stauwaert  and 
placed  her  beside  the  dead  body  on  the  cart. 

"Come,"  he  said  to  Maertz,  "get  the  dogs 
into  a  trot. — Leontine,  look  after  your  father, 
and  don't  lose  sight  of  us !" 

He  grasped  Irene  by  the  arm.  The  tiny 
vehicle  was  flat  and  narrow,  and  he  was  so 
intent  on  preventing  the  unconscious  woman 
from  falling  off  into  the  road  that  he  did  not 
miss  Joos  and  his  daughter  until  Irene  called  on 
Maertz  to  stop.  "Where  are  the  others?"  she 
cried.  "We  must  not  desert  them." 


184  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

In  the  midst  of  a  scattered  mob  came  the 
laggards.  Joos  was  not  hurrying  at  all.  He 
was  smiling  horribly.  In  his  hand  he  held  a 
large  pocket-knife  open.  "It  was  all  I  had," 
he  explained  calmly.  "But  Margot  said  Lise 
was  dead,  so  it  did  his  business." 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Dalroy.  "It  was  your 
privilege.  But  you  must  run  now,  for  Leon- 
tine's  sake,  as  she  will  not  leave  you,  and  the 
Germans  may  be  on  us  at  any  moment." 

Luckily,  the  stream  of  people  swerved  into  a 
byroad;  the  "quarries"  of  which  some  man 
had  spoken  opened  up  in  the  hillside  close  at 
hand.  On  top  were  woods,  and  a  cart-track  led 
that  way  at  a  sharp  gradient.  Dalroy  assisted 
the  dogs  by  pushing  the  cart,  and  they  reached 
the  summit.  Pausing  there,  while  Irene  and  the 
weeping  Leontine  endeavoured  to  revive  Ma- 
dame Stauwaert,  to  whom  they  must  look  for 
some  sort  of  guidance  as  to  their  next  move,  he 
went  to  the  lip  of  the  excavation,  and  surveyed 
the  scene. 

Dusk  was  creeping  over  the  picturesque  val- 
ley, but  the  light  still  sufficed  to  reveal  dis- 
tances. The  railway  station,  with  all  the  houses 
in  the  vicinity,  was  on  fire.  Nearly  every  dwell- 
ing along  the  Namur  road  was  ablaze;  while 
the  trim  little  farms  which  rise,  one  above  the 
other,  on  the  terraced  heights  of  the  right  bank 
of  the  Meuse  seemed  to  have  burst  into  flame 
spontaneously.  Seilles,  too,  on  the  opposite 
bank,  was  undergoing  the  same  process  of  wan- 


ANDENNE  185 


ton  destruction ;  but,  a  puzzling  thing,  rifles  and 
machine-guns  were  busy  on  both  sides  of  the 
river,  and  the  flashes  showed  that  a  sharp  en- 
gagement was  taking  place. 

A  man,  carrying  a  child  in  his  arms,  who  had 
come  with  them,  was  standing  at  Dalroy's  el- 
bow. He  appeared  self-possessed  enough,  so 
the  Englishman  sought  information. 

"Are  those  Belgian  troops  in  Seilles?"  he 
inquired. 

The  man  snorted.  "Belgians?  No!  They 
retreated  to  Namur  this  morning.  That  is  a 
Bavarian  regiment  shooting  at  Brandenburgers 
in  Andenne.  They  are  all  mad  drunk,  officers 
and  men.  They've  been  here  since  eleven 
o'clock,  first  Uhlans,  then  infantry.  The  bur- 
gomaster met  them  fairly,  not  a  shot  was  fired, 
and  we  thought  we  were  over  the  worst.  Then, 
as  you  see,  hell  broke  loose!" 

Such  was  the  refuge  Andenne  provided  on 
Monday,  20th  August.  Hell — by  order ! 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  TEAMP  ACROSS   BELGIUM 

THE  stranger,  a  Monsieur  Jules  Pochard, 
proved  a  most  useful  friend.  In  the  first  in- 
stance, he  was  a  cool-headed  person,  who  did 
not  allow  imagination  to  run  riot.  "No,"  he 
said,  when  questioned  as  to  the  chance  of  reach- 
ing Namur  by  a  forced  march  along  country 
lanes,  "every  road  in  that  section  of  the  prov- 
ince is  closed  by  cavalry  patrols.  You  cannot 
avoid  them,  monsieur.  Come  with  me  to  Huy, 
and  you'll  be  reasonably  safe." 

"Why  safer  in  Huy  than  here,  or  anywhere 
else  where  these  brutes  may  be!" 

"Huy  has  been  occupied  by  the  Germans 
since  the  12th,  and  is  their  temporary  head- 
quarters. From  what  I  gather,  they  usually 
spare  such  towns.  That  is  why  we  never 
dreamed  of  Andenne  being  sacked." 

Dalroy  remembered  the  aged  cure's  exposi- 
tion of  Kultur  as  a  policy.  "Is  this  sort  of 
thing  going  on  generally,  then  f "  he  asked. 

Monsieur  Pochard  was  a  Frenchman.  He 
raised  his  eyebrows.  "Where  can  you  have 
been,  monsieur,  not  to  know  what  has  hap- 
pened at  Liege,  Vise,  Flemelle  Grande,  Blagny 
Trembleur,  and  a  score  of  other  places?" 

186 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  187 

"Vise!"  broke  in  the  cracked,  piping  voice  of 
Joos.  "What's  that  about  Vise?" 

"  It  is  burnt  to  the  ground,  and  nearly  all  the 
inhabitants  killed." 

"Is  anything  said  of  a  fat  major  named 
Busch,  whom  Henri  Joos  the  miller  stuck  with 
a  fork?" 

"A  Prussian,  do  you  mean?" 

"Ay.  One  of  the  same  breed — a  West- 
phalian. ' ' 

"I  haven't  heard." 

"He  tried  to  assault  my  daughter,  so 
I  got  him.  The  second  one,  a  Uhlan,  killed 
my  wife,  and  I  got  him  too.  I  cut  his 
throat  down  there  in  the  main  street.  It's 
easy  to  kill  Germans.  They're  soft,  like 
pigs." 

Though  Joos's  half -demented  boasting  was 
highly  injudicious,  Dalroy  did  not  interfere. 
He  was  in  a  mood  to  let  matters  drift.  They 
could  not  well  be  worse.  He  had  tried  to 
control  the  course  of  events  in  so  far  as  they 
affected  his  own  and  Irene  Beresford's  for- 
tunes, but  had  failed  lamentably.  Now,  fate 
must  take  charge. 

Pochard's  comment  was  to  the  point,  at  any 
rate.  "I  congratulate  you,  monsieur,"  he  said. 
"I'll  do  a  bit  in  that  line  myself  when  this 
little  one  is  lodged  with  his  aunt  in  Huy.  If 
every  Belgian  accounts  for  two  Prussians, 
you'll  hold  them  till  the  French  and  English 
join  up." 


188  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

* '  Do  you  know  for  certain  where  the  English 
are?"  put  in  Dalroy  eagerly. 

"Yes,  at  Charleroi.  The  French  are  in 
Namur.  Come  with  me  to  Huy.  A  few  days, 
and  the  sales  Alboches  will  be  pelting  back  to 
the  Rhine." 

For  the  second  time  Dalroy  heard  a  slang 
epithet  new  to  him  applied  to  the  Germans. 
He  little  guessed  how  familiar  the  abbreviated 
French  form  of  the  word  would  become  in  his 
ears.  Briton,  Frenchman,  Slav,  and  Italian 
have  cordially  adopted  "Boche"  as  a  suitable 
term  for  the  common  enemy.  It  has  no  mean- 
ing, yet  conveys  a  sense  of  contemptuous  dis- 
like. Stricken  France  had  no  heart  for  humour 
in  1870.  The  merciless  foe  was  then  a  "Prus- 
sian"; in  1914  he  became  a  "Boche,"  and  the 
change  held  a  comforting  significance. 

Dalroy,  of  course,  did  not  share  the  French- 
man's opinion  as  to  the  speedy  discomfiture  of 
the  invader;  but  night  was  falling,  the  offer 
of  shelter  was  too  good  to  be  refused.  Never- 
theless, he  was  careful  to  reveal  a  real  difficulty. 
"Unfortunately,  we  have  a  dead  woman  in  the 
cart,"  he  said.  "Madame  Stauwaert,  too,  is 
ill,  but  she  has  recovered  from  a  fainting  fit,  I 
see." 

"Ah,  poor  Stauwaert!"  murmured  the  other. 
"A  decent  fellow.  I  saw  them  kill  him.  And 
that's  his  wife,  of  course.  I  didn't  recognise 
her  before." 

Dalroy  was  relieved  to  find  that  the  French- 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  189 

man  and  the  bereaved  woman  were  friends.  He 
had  not  forgotten  the  priest's  statement  that 
there  would  be  a  spy  in  every  group  in  that 
part  of  Belgium.  Later  he  ascertained  that 
Monsieur  Pochard  was  a  well-to-do  leather 
merchant  in  Andenne,  who,  like  many  others, 
refused  to  abandon  a  long-established  business 
for  fear  of  the  Germans ;  doubtless  he  was  des- 
tined to  pay  a  heavy  price  for  his  tenacity  ere 
the  war  ended.  He  behaved  now  as  a  true  Sa- 
maritan, urging  an  immediate  move,  and  prom- 
ising even  to  arrange  for  Madame  Joos's  burial. 
Dalroy  helped  him  to  carry  the  child,  a  three- 
year-old  boy,  who  was  very  sleepy  and  peevish, 
and  did  not  understand  why  he  should  not  be 
at  home  and  in  bed. 

Joos  suffered  them  to  lead  him  where  they 
listed.  He  walked  by  the  side  of  the  cart,  and 
told  "Lise"  how  he  had  dealt  with  the  Uhlan. 
Leontine  sobbed  afresh,  and  tried  to  stop  him, 
but  he  grew  quite  angry. 

"Why  shouldn't  she  know?"  he  snapped. 
"It  is  her  affair,  and  mine.  You  screamed,  and 
turned  away,  but  I  -hacked  at  him  till  his  wind- 
pipe hissed." 

Monsieur  Pochard  brought  them  to  Huy  by  a 
rough  road  among  the  hills. 

It  was  a  dreadful  journey  in  the  gloaming 
of  a  perfect  summer's  evening.  The  old  man's 
ghoulish  jabbering,  the  sobs  of  the  women,  the 
panting  of  two  exhausted  dogs,  and  the  wailing 
of  the  child,  who  wanted  his  father's  arms 


190  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

round  him  rather  than  a  stranger's,  supplied  a 
tragic  chorus  which  ill  beguiled  that  Via  Do- 
lorosa  along  the  heights  of  the  Meuse. 

Irene  insisted  on  taking  the  boy  for  a  time, 
and  the  youngster  ceased  his  plaint  at  once. 

11  That's  a  blessed  relief,"  she  confided  to 
Dalroy.  "I'm  not  afflicted  with  nerves,  but 
this  poor  little  chap's  crying  was  more  than  I 
could  bear." 

"He  is  too  heavy  that  you  should  carry  him 
far,"  he  protested. 

"You're  very  much  of  a  man,  Arthur,"  she 
said  quietly.  "You  don't  realise,  I  suppose, 
that  nature  gives  us  women  strong  arms  for  this 
very  purpose." 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  The  fact  is,  I'm 
worried.  I  have  a  doubt  at  the  back  of  my  head 
that  we  ought  to  be  going  the  other  way." 

"Which  other  way?" 

"In  precisely  the  opposite  direction." 

"But  what  can  we  do?  At  what  stage  in  our 
wanderings  up  to  this  very  moment  could  we 
have  parted  company  with  our  friends?  Do 
you  know,  I  have  a  horrible  feeling  that  we  have 
brought  a  good  deal  of  avoidable  misery  on 
their  heads?  If  we  hadn't  gone  to  the 
mill " 

"They  would  probably  all  have  been  dead  by 
this  time,  and  certainly  both  homeless  and 
friendless,"  he  interrupted.  Then  he  began 
telling  her  the  fate  of  Vise,  but  was  brought  up 
short  by  an  imperative  whisper  from  Pochard. 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  191 

They  were  talking  English,  without  realising  it, 
and  Huy  was  near. 

"And  why  carry  that  sword?"  added  the 
Frenchman.  "It  is  useless,  and  most  danger- 
ous. Thrust  it  into  a  ditch. " 

Dalroy  obeyed  promptly.  He  had  thought- 
lessly disregarded  the  sinister  outcome  if  a 
patrol  found  him  with  such  a  weapon  in  his 
hand. 

They  came  to  Huy  by  a  winding  road  through 
a  suburb,  meeting  plenty  of  soldiers  strolling  to 
and  from  billets.  Luck  befriended  them  at  this 
ticklish  moment.  None  saw  a  little  party 
turning  into  a  lane  which  led  to  the  back  of 
the  villa  tenanted  by  Monsieur  Pochard's  mar- 
ried sister.  This  lady  proved  both  sympathetic 
and  helpful.  The  cart,  with  its  sad  freight,  was 
housed  in  a  wood-shed  at  the  bottom  of  the 
garden,  and  the  dogs  were  stabled  in  the  gar- 
dener's potting-shed. 

"The  ladies  can  share  my  bedroom  and  my 
daughter's,"  she  said.  "You  men  must  sleep 
in  the  greenhouse,  as  every  remaining  room  is 
filled  with  Uhlans.  Their  supper  is  ready  now, 
but  there  is  plenty.  Come  and  eat  before  they 
arrive.  They  left  on  patrol  duty  early  this 
morning." 

And  that  is  where  the  fugitives  experienced 
a  stroke  of  amazing  good  fortune.  That  par- 
ticular batch  of  Uhlans  never  returned.  It  was 
supposed  that  they  were  cut  off  while  scouting 
along  the  Tirlemont  road.  Apparently  their 


192  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

absence  only  contributed  to  an  evening  of  quiet 
talk  and  a  night  of  undisturbed  rest.  In  reality, 
it  saved  the  lives  of  the  whole  party,  including 
the  hostess  and  her  family. 

Early  next  morning  Monsieur  Pochard  inter- 
viewed an  undertaker,  and  Madame  Joos  was 
laid  to  rest  in  the  nearest  cemetery.  Maertz, 
Madame  Stauwaert,  and  Leontine  attended  the 
funeral.  Joos  showed  signs  of  collapse.  His 
mind  wandered.  He  thought  his  wife  was 
living,  and  in  Verviers.  They  encouraged  the 
delirium,  and  dosed  him  with  a  narcotic. 

Irene  helped  in  the  kitchen,  and  Dalroy  dug 
the  garden.  Thus,  the  confederacy  remained 
split  up  during  the  morning,  and  was  not  no- 
ticed by  an  officer  who  came  to  inquire  about  the 
missing  Uhlans. 

About  noon  Monsieur  Pochard  drew  Dalroy 
aside.  "Monsieur,"  he  said,  and  his  face  wore 
anxious  lines,  "last  night  the  old  man  implied 
that  he  was  Henri  Joos,  of  Vise.  No,  please 
listen.  I  don't  want  to  be  told.  I  can  only 
give  you  certain  facts,  and  leave  you  to  draw 
your  own  conclusions.  Active  inquiries  are 
being  made  by  the  authorities  for  Henri  Joos, 
Elisabeth  Joos,  Leontine  Joos,  their  daughter, 
and  Jan  Maertz,  all  of  Vise.  With  them  are 
an  Englishwoman  aged  twenty,  and  an  English 
officer  named  Dalroy,  both  dressed  as  Belgian 
peasants.  The  appended  descriptions  seem  to 
be  remarkably  accurate,  and  a  reward  of  one 
thousand  marks  is  offered  for  their  capture.'* 


A  TRAMP  ACEOSS  BELGIUM  193 

* '  They  may  be  willing  to  pay  double  the  price 
for  freedom,"  said  Dalroy. 

The  Frenchman  was  not  offended.  He  real- 
ised that  this  was  not  a  suggestion  of  a  per- 
sonal bribe. 

"You  have  not  heard  all,"  he  continued. 
"These  people  were  traced  to  Verviers,  but  the 
trail  was  lost  after  Maertz  bought  a  cart  and  a 
dog-team  in  that  town  three  days  ago.  Unfor- 
tunately, some  Uhlans,  passing  through  An- 
denne  last  night,  have  reported  the  presence 
of  just  such  a  party  on  the  main  road.  Other 
soldiers  believe  they  saw  a  similar  lot  entering 
Huy  after  dark,  and  the  burgomaster  is  warned 
that  the  strictest  search  must  be  made  among 
refugees  at  Huy.  To  make  sure,  a  German 
escort  will  assist.  It  is  estimated  that  Joos  and 
the  others  will  be  caught,  because  they  will 
probably  depend  on  a  laisser  passer  issued  in 
Argenteau  under  false  names,  which  are  known. 
Joos  figures  as  Wilhelm  Schultz,  for  instance. 
Don't  look  so  surprised,  monsieur.  The  burgo- 
master is  my  brother-in-law's  partner.  He  will 
not  reach  this  quarter  of  Huy  till  half -past  three 
or  four  o  'clock. ' ' 

"But  there  is  the  record  of  Madame  Joos's 
burial, ' '  put  in  Dalroy  instantly. 

"No.  The  poor  creature  remains  a  ' woman 
unknown,  found  dead.'  The  Germans  don't 
worry  about  such  trifles.  But,  by  a  strange 
coincidence,  Madame  Stauwaert  practically 
takes  her  place  for  identification  purposes.  By 


194  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

the  mercy  of  Providence,  no  German  soldier  was 
in  this  house  last  night,  or  he  would  now  be 
the  richer  by  a  thousand  marks.  The  notice  is 
placarded  at  the  Kommandantur,  and  is  being 
read  by  the  multitude. ' ' 

"We  shall  not  bring  further  trouble  on  a 
family  which  has  already  run  grave  risk  in  our 
behalf,"  vowed  Dalroy  warmly.  "We  must 
scatter  at  once,  and,  if  caught,  suffer  individ- 
ually." 

"I  was  sure  you  would  say  that,  monsieur; 
but  sworn  allies  carry  friendship  to  greater 
lengths.  Now,  let  us  take  counsel.  Madame 
Stauwaert  can  remain  here.  Fifty  people  in 
Huy  will  answer  for  her.  My  sister  can  hire 
a  servant,  Leontine.  If  Joos  is  tractable  he 
can  lodge  in  safety  with  some  cottagers  I  know. 
Maertz  wishes  to  join  the  Belgian  army,  and 
you  the  British;  while  that  charming  young 
lady  will  want  to  get  to  England.  Well,  we 
may  be  able  to  contrive  all  these  things.  I 
happen  to  be  a  bit  of  an  antiquary,  and  Huy 
owns  more  ruined  castles  and  monasteries  than 
any  other  town  of  similar  size  in  Belgium,  or 
in  the  world,  I  imagine.  Follow  my  instructions 
to  the  letter,  and  you  will  cheat  the  Germans 
yet.  They  are  animals  of  habit  and  cast-iron 
rule.  When  searching  for  six  people  they  will 
never  look  for  one  or  two.  Yet  it  would  be 
folly  if  you  and  mademoiselle  wandered  off  by 
yourselves  in  a  strange  country.  Then,  indeed, 
even  German  official  obtuseness  might  show  a 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  195 

spark  of  real  intelligence ;  whereas,  by  gaining 
a  few  days,  who  knows  whether  your  armies 
may  not  come  to  you,  rather  than  you  go  to 
them?" 

The  good-hearted  Frenchman's  scheme 
worked  without  a  hitch.  The  cart  was  broken 
up  for  firewood,  the  harness  burnt,  and  the  dogs 
taken  a  mile  into  the  country  by  Maertz,  who 
sold  them  for  a  couple  of  francs,  and  came  back 
to  a  certain  ruined  priory  by  a  roundabout 
road. 

Irene  and  Dalroy  had  gone  there  already. 
The  place  lay  deep  in  trees  and  brushwood,  and 
was  approachable  by  a  dozen  hidden  ways. 
Although  given  over  to  bats  and  owls,  its 
tumbledown  walls  contained  one  complete  room, 
situated  some  twenty  feet  above  the  ground 
level,  and  reached  by  a  winding  staircase  of 
stone  slabs,  which  looked  most  precarious,  but 
proved  quite  sound  if  used  by  a  sure-footed 
climber. 

Here,  then,  the  three  dwelt  eleven  weary 
days.  During  daylight  their  only  diversion  was 
the  flight  of  hosts  of  aeroplanes  toward  the 
French  frontier.  Twice  they  saw  Zeppelins. 
For  warmth  at  night  they  depended  on  horse- 
rugs  and  bundles  of  a  species  of  bracken  which 
throve  among  the  piles  of  stones.  They  were 
well  supplied  with  food,  deposited  at  dusk  in  a 
fosse,  and  obtained  when  the  opening  bars  of 
"La  Brabangonne"  were  whistled  at  a  distance. 
The  air  itself  was  a  guarantee  that  no  German 


196  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

was  near,  because  the  Belgian  national  anthem 
is  not  pleasing  to  Hun  ears. 

A  typed  note  in  the  basket  formed  their  sole 
link  with  the  outer  world.  And  what  momen- 
tous issues  were  conveyed  in  the  briefest  of 
sentences ! 

"Namur  has  fallen  after  a  day's  bombard- 
ment by  a  new  and  terrible  cannon." 

1  'Brussels  has  capitulated  without  resist- 
ance. ' ' 

"  After  a  fierce  battle,  the  French  and  English 
have  retired  from  Charleroi  and  Mons." 

"The  retreat  continues.  France  is  invaded. 
Valenciennes  has  fallen." 

On  the  eleventh  morning  Dalroy  hid  among 
the  bushes  until  the  daily  basket  was  brought. 
Monsieur  Pochard  himself  was  the  go-between. 
He  feared  lest  Leontine  would  contrive  to  meet 
Maertz,  so  the  girl  did  not  know  where  her  lover 
was  hidden. 

The  Frenchman  started  visibly  when  Dal- 
roy's  voice  reached  him;  but  the  latter  spoke  in 
a  tone  which  would  not  carry  far.  "I'm  sorry 
to  seem  ungrateful,"  he  said,  "but  we  are  grow- 
ing desperate.  Do  us  one  last  favour,  monsieur, 
and  we  impose  no  more  on  your  goodness.  Tell 
me  where  and  when  we  can  cross  the  Meuse, 
and  the  best  route  to  take  subsequently.  Sink 
or  swim,  I,  at  any  rate,  must  endeavour  to 
reach  England,  and  mademoiselle  is  equally  re- 
solved to  make  the  attempt. ' ' 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  came  the  sorrowful  re- 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  197 

ply.  ' '  This  is  going  to  be  a  long  war.  Twenty 
years  of  deadly  preparation  are  bearing  fruit. 
I  am  sick  with  anxiety.  But  I  dare  not  loiter  in 
this  neighbourhood,  so,  as  to  your  affair,  my 
advice  is  that  you  cross  the  Meuse  to-morrow 
in  broad  daylight.  The  bridge  is  repaired,  and 
no  very  strict  watch  is  kept.  Make  for  Nivelles, 
Enghien,  and  Oudenarde.  The  Belgians  hold 
the  Antwerp-Gand-Roulers  line,  but  are  being 
driven  back  daily.  I  have  been  thinking  of  you. 
If  you  delay  longer  you  will — at  the  best — be 
imprisoned  in  Belgium  for  many  months.  Are 
you  determined?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  want  money?" 

*  *  We  have  plenty. ' ' 

"Farewell,  then,  and  may  God  protect  you!" 

"Is  there  no  chance  of  nearing  the  British 
force?"  was  Dalroy's  final  and  almost  despair- 
ing question. 

"Not  the  least.  You  would  be  following  on 
the  heels  of  a  quick-moving  and  victorious  army. 
Progress  is  slower  toward  the  coast.  You  have 
a  fighting  chance  that  way,  none  the  other. 
Good-bye,  monsieur." 

"Good-bye,  best  of  friends!" 

The  sudden  collapse  of  Namur,  and  the  con- 
sequent failure  of  the  Anglo-French  army's 
initial  scheme,  had  served  to  alter  this  shrewd 
man's  opinion  completely.  His  confidence  was 
gone,  his  nerve  shaken.  The  pressure  of  the 
jack-boot  was  heavy  upon  him.  Dalroy  was 


198  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

certain  that  he  walked  away  with  a  furtive 
haste,  being  in  mortal  fear  lest  the  people  he 
had  helped  so  greatly  might  put  forth  some  ad- 
ditional request  which  he  dared  not  grant. 

Next  morning  they  left  the  priory  grounds 
separately,  and  strolled  into  the  town,  keeping 
some  fifty  yards  apart.  It  was  only  after  a 
struggle  that  Jan  Maertz  relinquished  the  no- 
tion of  trying  to  see  Leontine  before  going 
from  Huy,  but  the  others  convinced  him  that 
he  might  imperil  both  the  girl  and  their  bene- 
factors. As  matters  stood,  her  greatest  danger 
must  have  nearly  vanished  by  this  time;  it 
would  be  a  lamentable  thing  if  her  lover  were 
arrested,  and  it  became  known  that  he  had 
visited  the  villa. 

They  crossed  the  river  on  pontoons.  The 
Germans  were  already  rebuilding  the  stone 
bridge.  They  seemed  to  have  men  to  spare  for 
everything.  That  the  bridge  was  being  actu- 
ally rebuilt,  and  not  made  practicable  by 
timber-work  only,  impressed  Dalroy  more 
forcibly  than  any  other  fact  gleaned  during  his 
Odyssey  in  a  Belgium  under  German  rule. 
There  was  no  thought  of  relinquishing  the  oc- 
cupied territory,  no  hint  of  doubt  that  it  might 
be  wrested  from  their  clutch  in  the  near  future. 
He  noticed  that  the  post-office,  the  railway  sta- 
tion, the  parcels  vans,  even  the  street  names, 
were  Germanised.  He  learnt  subsequently  that 
the  schools  had  been  taken  over  by  German 
teachers,  while  the  mere  sound  of  French  in  a 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  199 

shop  or  public  place  was  scowled  at  if  not  abso- 
lutely forbidden. 

There  were  not  many  troops  on  the  roads,  but 
crowded  troop-trains  passed  on  both  sides  of 
the  Meuse,  and  ever  in  the  same  direction. 
Two  long  hospital  trains  came  from  the  south- 
west, and  Dalroy  knew  what  that  meant.  An- 
other long  train  of  closed  wagons,  heavily 
laden,  as  a  panting  engine  testified,  perplexed 
him,  however.  He  spoke  of  it  to  Maertz,  the 
three  being  on  the  road  in  company  as  they 
climbed  the  hill  to  Heron,  and  the  carter 
promptly  sought  information  from  a  farmer. 

The  man  eyed  them  carefully.  "Where  are 
you  from?"  he  demanded  in  true  Flemish. 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?"  grinned 
Maertz,  in  the  same  patois. 

The  questioner  was  satisfied.  He  jerked  a 
thumb  toward  the  French  frontier.  "Dead 
uns!"  he  said.  "They're  killing  Germans  like 
flies  down  yonder.  They  can't  bury  them — 
haven't  time — so  they  tie  the  corpses  together, 
slinging  four  on  a  pole  for  easy  handling,  ship 
them  to  Germany,  and  chuck  them  into  fur- 
naces." 

"So,"  guffawed  Maertz,  "the  swine  know 
where  they  are  going  then !" 

To  Dalroy 's  secret  amazement,  Irene,  who 
understood  each  word,  laughed  with  the  others. 
Campaigning  had  not  coarsened,  but  it  had 
undeniably  hardened  her  nature.  A  month  ago 
she  would  have  shuddered  at  sight  of  these  dun 


200  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

trucks,  with  their  ghastly  freight.  Now,  so 
long  as  they  only  contained  Germans,  she  sur- 
veyed them  with  interest. 

"Allowing  forty  bodies  to  one  wagon,"  she 
said,  "there  are  over  a  thousand  dead  men  in 
that  train  alone." 

The  farmer  spat  approval.  "I've  been  busy, 
and  have  missed  some;  but  that's  the  tenth  lot 
which  has  gone  east  this  morning, ' '  he  remarked 
cheerfully. 

"Is  the  road  to  Nivelles  fairly  open?"  Dal- 
roy  ventured  to  inquire. 

"One  never  knows.  Anyhow,  always  give 
the  next  village  as  your  destination.  If  doubt- 
ful, travel  by  night. ' ' 

This  counsel  was  well  meant.  In  the  silent 
bitterness  of  hours  yet  to  come,  Dalroy  recalled 
it,  and  wished  he  had  profited  by  it. 

Roughly  speaking,  they  had  set  out  on  a  fifty 
miles '  tramp,  which  the  men  could  have  tackled 
in  two  days,  or  less.  But  the  presence  of  Irene 
lowered  the  scale,  and  Dalroy  apportioned  mat- 
ters so  that  twelve  miles  daily  formed  their  pro- 
gramme, with,  as  the  entrepreneurs  say,  power 
to  increase  or  curtail.  Thus,  that  first  after- 
noon, the  date  being  September  2nd,  they  pulled 
up  at  Gembloux,  quite  a  small  place,  finding 
supper  and  beds  in  a  farm  beyond  the  village. 

Next  day  they  pushed  ahead  through  Nivelles, 
and  entered  the  forest  of  Soignies,  that  undu- 
lating woodland  on  which  Wellington  depended 
for  the  protection  of  a  dangerous  flank  during 


201 


the  unavoidable  retreat  to  the  coast  if  Napoleon 
had  beaten  the  British  army  at  Waterloo. 

Dalroy  explained  the  Iron  Duke's  strategy  to 
Irene  as  they  paced  a  road  which  provides  an 
ideal  walking  tour. 

1 '  That  a  General  was  not  worth  his  salt  who 
did  not  secure  the  track  of  his  army  if  defeated 
was  one  of  his  fixed  principles,"  he  said.  "He 
would  never  depart  from  it,  and  his  disposi- 
tions at  Waterloo  were  based  on  it.  In  fact,  his 
solicitude  in  that  respect  nearly  caused  a  row 
between  him  and  Bliicher." 

"Let  me  see,"  mused  the  girl  aloud.  "The 
Germans  have  never  fought  the  British  in 
modern  times  until  this  war. ' ' 

"That  is  correct." 

"And  how  far  away  is  Mons?" 

Dalroy  smiled  at  the  thought  which  had  evi- 
dently occurred  to  her. 

"We  are  now  just  half-way  between  Mons 
and  Waterloo.  Each  is  about  ten  miles  dis- 
tant." 

"We  were  allied  then  with  the  Belgians, 
Germans,  and  Russians  against  the  French. 
Now  we  have  joined  the  Belgians,  French,  and 
Russians  against  the  Germans.  It  sounds  like 
counting  in  a  game  of  cribbage.  A  hundred 
years  from  to-day  our  combination  may  be  with 
the  Belgians,  Germans,  and  French  against  the 
Russians." 

"You  mustn't  even  hint  treason  against  our 
present  Allies,"  he  laughed. 


202  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

1  'What  are  Allies?  Of  what  avail  are 
treaties'?  You  men  have  mismanaged  things 
woefully.  It  is  high  time  women  took  a  lead  in 
governing. ' ' 

"Awful!  I  do  verily  believe  you  are  a  suf- 
fragette. ' ' 

"I  am.  During  what  periods  has  England 
been  greatest?  In  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and 
Victoria. ' ' 

"Why  leave  out  poor  Queen  Anne?" 

"She  was  a  very  excellent  woman.  As  soon 
as  she  came  to  the  throne  she  declared  her 
resolution  'not  to  follow  the  example  of  her 
predecessors  in  making  use  of  a  few  of  her  sub- 
jects to  oppress  the  rest.'  The  common  people 
don't  err  in  their  estimate  of  rulers,  and  they 
knew  what  they  were  about  in  christening  her 
'Good  Queen  Anne.'  " 

"Now  I'm  sure." 

"Sure  of  what?" 

"You  have  never  told  me  what  you  were  do- 
ing in  Berlin." 

"You  haven't  asked  me,"  she  broke  in. 

"Did  it  matter?    I " 

Irene's  intuition  warned  her  that  this  harm- 
less chatter  had  swung  round  with  lightning 
rapidity  to  a  personal  issue.  Sad  to  relate,  she 
had  not  washed  her  face  or  hands  for  eleven 
days,  so  a  blush  told  no  tales;  but  she  inter- 
rupted again  rather  nervously, ' '  What  is  it  you 
are  sure  of?" 

"You    must    have    been    a    governess-corn- 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  203 

panion  in  some  German  family  of  position.  I 
can  foresee  a  trying  future.  I  must  brush  up 
my  dates,  or  lose  caste  forever.  Isn't  there  a 
doggerel  jingle  beginning: 

In  fifty-five  and  fifty- four 

Came  Caesar  o'er  to  Britain's  shore? 

L";  I  learn  it,  it  may  save  me  many  a  trip.'* 

1 1  Here,  you  two, ' '  growled  Jan  Maertz, '  *  talk 
a  language  a  fellow  can  understand." 

The  road  was  deserted  save  for  themselves, 
and  the  others  had  unconsciously  spoken  Eng- 
lish. Dalroy  turned  to  apologise  to  their  rough 
but  trusty  friend,  and  thus  missed  the  quizzical 
and  affectionate  glance  which  Irene  darted  at 
him.  She  was  still  smiling  when  next  he 
caught  her  eye. 

4 'What  is  it  now?"  he  asked. 

"I  was  thinking  how  difficult  it  is  to  see  a 
wood  for  the  trees,"  she  replied. 

Maertz  took  her  literally. 

"I'll  be  glad  when  we're  in  the  open  country 
again,  mademoiselle,"  he  said.  "I  don't  like 
this  forest.  One  can't  guess  what  may  be  hid- 
ing round  the  corner." 

Yet  they  stopped  that  night  at  Braine  le 
Comte,  and  crossed  Enghien  next  day  without 
incident.  It  is  a  pity  that  such  a  glorious 
ramble  should  be  described  so  baldly.  In 
happier  times,  when  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
took  that  blithe  journey  through  the  Cevennes 
with  a  donkey,  a  similar  excursion  produced  a 


204  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

book  which  will  be  read  when  the  German 
madness  has  long  been  relegated  to  a  detested 
oblivion.  But  Uhlan  pickets  and  "  square- 
head" sentries  supply  wretched  sign-posts  in 
a  land  of  romance,  and  the  wanderers  were  now 
in  a  region  where  each  kilometre  had  to  be  sur- 
veyed with  caution. 

Maertz  owned  an  aunt  in  every  village,  and 
careful  inquiry  had,  of  course,  located  one  of 
these  numerous  relatives  in  Lierde,  a  hamlet 
on  the  Grammont-Gand  road.  Oudenarde  was 
strongly  held  by  the  enemy,  but  the  roads  lead- 
ing to  Gand  were  the  scene  of  magnificent  ex- 
ploits by  the  armoured  cars  of  the  Belgian 
army.  Certain  Belgian  motorists  had  become 
national  heroes  during  the  past  fortnight.  An 
innkeeper  in  Grammont  told  with  bated  breath 
how  one  famous  driver,  helped  by  a  machine- 
gun  crew,  was  accounting  for  scores  of  maraud- 
ing cavalrymen.  '  *  The  English  and  French  are 
beaten,  but  our  fellows  are  holding  them,"  he 
said  with  a  fine  air.  "When  you  boys  get 
through  you'll  enjoy  life.  My  nephew,  who 
used  to  be  a  great  chasseur,  says  there  is  no 
sport  like  chasing  mounted  Boches." 

This  frank  recognition  of  Dalroy  as  one  of 
the  innumerable  young  Belgians  then  engaged 
in  crossing  the  enemy's  lines  in  order  to  serve 
with  their  brothers  was  an  unwitting  compli- 
ment to  a  student  who  had  picked  up  the  col- 
loquial phrases  and  Walloon  words  in  Maertz 's 
uncouth  speech.  A  man  who  looked  like  an 


A  TRAMP  ACROSS  BELGIUM  205 

unkempt  peasant  should  speak  like  one,  and 
Dalroy  was  an  apt  scholar.  He  never  trod  on 
doubtful  ground.  Strangers  regarded  him  as  a 
taciturn  person,  solely  because  of  this  linguistic 
restraint.  Maertz  made  nearly  all  inquiries,  and 
never  erred  in  selecting  an  informant.  The 
truth  was  that  German  spies  were  rare  in  this 
district.  They  were  common  as  crows  in  the 
cities,  and  on  the  frontiers  of  Belgium  and 
France,  but  rural  Brabant  harboured  few,  and 
that  simple  fact  accounts  for  the  comparatively 
slow  progress  of  the  invaders  as  they  neared 
the  coast. 

It  was  at  a  place  called  Oombergen,  midway 
between  Oudenarde  and  Alost,  that  the  fugi- 
tives met  the  Death 's-Head  Hussars.  And  with 
that  ill-omened  crew  came  the  great  adventure. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT   THE   GATES   OF   DEATH 

HAD  Dalroy  followed  his  own  plans,  supported 
as  they  were  by  the  well-meant  advice  tendered 
by  the  farmer  of  the  Meuse  valley,  he  might 
have  led  his  companions  through  the  final  bar- 
rier without  incurring  any  risk  at  all  compara- 
ble with  the  hair  's-breadth  escapes  of  Vise, 
Argenteau,  Andenne,  and  Huy. 

But  the  weather  broke.  Rain  fell  in  tor- 
rents, and  Irene's  presence  was  a  real  deterrent 
to  spending  a  night  in  a  ditch  or  lurking  in  the 
depths  of  a  wood  till  dawn.  Maertz,  too,  jubi- 
lant in  the  certainty  that  the  Belgian  outposts 
were  hardly  six  miles  distant,  advocated  the 
bold  policy  of  a  daylight  march.  Still,  there  was 
no  excuse  for  Dalroy,  who  knew  that  patrols  in 
an  enemy's  country  are  content  to  stand  fast 
by  night,  and  scout  during  the  day.  Unluckily, 
Irene  was  eager  as  their  Belgian  friend  to  rush 
the  last  stage.  She  was  infected  by  the  preva- 
lent spirit  of  the  people.  Throughout  the  whole 
of  September  these  valiant  folk  in  the  real 
Flanders  held  the  Germans  rather  cheap.  They 
did  not  realise  that  outpost  affairs  are  not  bat- 
tles— that  a  cavalry  screen,  as  its  very  name 
implies,  is  actually  of  more  value  in  cloaking 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     207 

movements  of  armies  in  rear  than  in  recon- 
noitring. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  in  the  late  afternoon  of 
5th  September  the  three  were  hurrying  past 
some  lounging  troopers  who  had  taken  shelter 
from  the  pouring  rain  in  the  spacious  doorway 
of  a  ruined  barn,  when  one  man  called  to  them, 
* '  Hi !  where  are  you  off  to  ? " 

They  pretended  not  to  hear,  whereupon  a 
bullet  passed  through  Dalroy's  smock  between 
arm  and  ribs. 

It  was  useless  to  think  of  bolting  from  cav- 
alry. They  turned  at  once,  hoping  that  a  bold 
front  might  serve.  This  occurred  a  mile  or 
more  from  Oombergen.  Maertz  had  "an 
aunt"  in  Oosterzeele,  the  next  village,  and  said 
so. 

"If  she's  anything  like  you,  you're  welcome 
to  her;  but  let's  have  a  look  at  your  cousin," 
grinned  the  German,  striding  forward,  car- 
bine in  hand,  and  grasping  Irene  by  the 
shoulder. 

"You  stop  here,  Frdulein — or,  is  it  Frau?" 
he  said,  with  a  vilely  suggestive  leer.  "Any- 
how, it  doesn't  matter.  If  one  of  these  pig- 
heads  is  your  husband  we  can  soon  make  you  a 
widow. ' ' 

Now  to  Irene  every  German  soldier  was  a 
boor,  with  a  boor's  vices  and  limitations.  The 
man,  a  corporal,  spoke  and  acted  coarsely,  using 
the  argot  of  the  barrack-room,  and  she  was  far 
too  frightened  to  see  in  his  satyr-like  features  a 


208  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

certain  intellectuality.  So,  in  her  distress,  she 
blundered  twice. 

"Leave  me  alone !"  she  said  shrilly,  trying  in 
voice  and  manner  to  copy  Leontine  Joos. 

"Now  don't  be  coy,  pretty  one,"  chuckled  the 
trooper,  beginning  to  urge  her  forcibly  in  the 
direction  of  the  barn. 

Dalroy  and  Jan  Maertz  had  remained  stock- 
still  when  the  hussar  came  up.  Suddenly  the 
Belgian  sheered  off,  and  ran  like  a  hare  into  the 
dense  wood  surrounding  the  small  cleared  space 
in  which  stood  the  barn.  The  building  had  evi- 
dently been  meant  to  house  stock  only.  There 
was  no  dwelling  attached.  It  had  served,  too, 
as  a  rallying-point  during  some  recent  scrim- 
mage. The  outer  walls  were  chipped  with  bul- 
lets; the  doors  had  been  torn  off  and  burnt; 
it  was  typical  of  Belgium  under  German  rule — 
a  husk  given  fictitious  life  by  the  conqueror's 
horses  and  men. 

Irene  had  seen  Jan  make  off,  while  Dalroy 
lurched  slowly  nearer.  She  could  not  hear  the 
fierce  whisper  which  bade  their  sturdy  ally  bolt 
for  the  trees,  and,  if  he  got  away,  implore  a 
strong  Belgian  patrol  to  come  to  the  rescue. 
But  she  knew  that  some  daring  expedient  had 
been  devised  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and 
gathered  all  her  resources  for  an  effort  to  gain 
time. 

The  corporal  heard  Jan  break  into  a  run. 
Letting  go  the  girl,  he  swung  on  his  heel  and 
raised  the  carbine. 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     209 

Dalroy  had  foreseen  that  this  might  happen. 
With  a  calm  courage  that  was  superb  because 
of  its  apparent  lack  of  thought,  he  had  placed 
himself  in  the  direct  line  of  fire.  Standing 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  laughing 
loudly,  he  first  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
vanishing  Maertz,  and  then  guffawed  into  the 
hussar's  face. 

"He's  done  a  bunk!"  he  cried  cheerfully. 
"You  said  he  might  go,  Herr  Unter-officier,  so 
he  hopped  it  without  even  saying  ' Auf  wiedei1 
sehn.'  " 

Meanwhile,  as  he  was  steadily  masking  the 
German's  aim,  he  might  have  been  shot  without 
warning.  But  the  ready  comment  baffled  the 
other  for  a  few  precious  seconds,  and  the  men 
in  the  barn  helped  unconsciously  by  chaffing 
their  comrade. 

"You've  got  your  hands  full  with  the  girl, 
Franz,"  said  one. 

"What's  she  like?"  bawled  another.  "I  can 
only  see  a  pair  of  slim  ankles  and  a  dirty 
face. ' ' 

"That's  all  you  will  see,  Georg,"  said  Franz, 
believing  that  a  scared  Belgian  peasant  had 
merely  bolted  in  panic.  "This  little  bit  is 
mine  by  the  laws  of  war. — Here,  you,"  he 
added,  surveying  Dalroy  quite  amicably, 
"be  off  to  your  aunt!  You'll  probably  be 
shot  at  Oosterzeele;  but  that's  your  affair, 
not  mine." 

"You  don't  know  my  aunt,"  said  Dalroy. 


210  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"I'd  sooner  face  a  regiment  of  soldiers  than 
stand  her  tongue  if  I  go  home  without  her 
niece. 

If  he  hoped  to  placate  this  swaggering  scoun- 
drel by  a  display  of  good-humour  he  failed  la- 
mentably. An  ugly  glint  shone  in  the  man's 
eyes,  and  he  handled  the  carbine  again  threat- 
eningly. 

"To  hell  with  you  and  your  aunt!"  he 
snarled.  "Perhaps  you  don't  know  it,  you 
Flemish  fool,  but  you're  a  German  now  and 
must  obey  orders.  Cut  after  your  pal  before 
I  count  three,  or  I'll  put  daylight  through  you ! 
One,  two " 

Then  the  hapless  Irene  committed  a  second 
and  fatal  error,  though  it  was  pardonable  in 
the  frenzy  of  a  tragic  dilemma,  since  the  next 
moment  might  see  her  lover  ruthlessly  mur- 
dered. To  lump  all  German  soldiers  into  one 
category  was  a  bad  mistake ;  it  was  far  worse  to 
change  her  accent  from  the  crude  speech  of  the 
province  of  Liege  to  the  high-sounding  periods 
of  Berlin  society. 

"How  dare  you  threaten  unoffending  people 
in  this  way  ? ' '  she  almost  screamed.  * '  I  demand 
that  you  send  for  an  officer,  and  I  ask  the  other 
men  of  your  regiment  to  bear  witness  we  have 
done  nothing  whatsoever  to  warrant  your  brutal 
behaviour. 

The  hussar  stood  as  though  he,  and  not  Dal- 
roy,  had  been  silenced  by  a  bullet.  He  listened 
to  the  girl's  outburst  with  an  expression  of 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     211 

blank  amazement,  which  soon  gave  place  to  a 
sinister  smile. 

"Gnadiges  Fraulein,"  he  answered,  spring- 
ing to  "attention,"  and  affecting  a  conscience- 
stricken  tone, 1 1 1  cry  your  pardon.  But  is  it  not 
your  own  fault?  Why  should  such  a  charming 
young  lady  masquerade  as  a  Belgian  peasant?" 

On  hearing  the  man  speak  as  a  well-educated 
Berliner,  Irene  became  deathly  white  under  the 
tan  and  grime  of  so  many  days  and  nights  of 
exposure.  She  nearly  fainted,  and  might  have 
fallen  had  not  Dalroy  caught  her.  Even  then, 
when  their  position  was  all  but  hopeless,  he 
made  one  last  attempt  to  throw  dust  in  the 
crafty  eyes  which  were  now  piercing  both  Irene 
and  himself  with  the  baneful  glare  of  a  tiger 
about  to  spring. 

"My  cousin  has  been  a  governess  in  Berlin," 
he  said  deferentially.  "She  isn't  afraid  of  sol- 
diers as  a  rule,  but  you  have  nearly  frightened 
her  to  death." 

Their  captor  still  examined  them  in  a  way 
that  chilled  even  the  Englishman's  dauntless 
heart.  He  was  summing  them  up,  much  as  a 
detective  might  scan  the  features  of  a  pair  of 
half-recognised  criminals  to  whom  he  could  not 
altogether  allot  their  proper  places  in  the 
Eogues'  Gallery. 

4  *  You  see,  she 's  ill, ' '  urged  Dalroy.  ' '  Mayn  't 
we  go?  My  aunt  keeps  a  decent  cellar.  I'll 
come  back  with  some  good  wine." 

Never  relaxing  that  glowering  scrutiny,  the 


212  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

corporal  shouted  suddenly,  ''Come  here, 
Georg!" 

The  man  thus  hailed  by  name  strode  forward. 
With  him  came  three  others,  Irene's  fluent  Ger- 
man and  the  parade  attitude  assumed  by  Franz 
having  aroused  their  curiosity. 

"You  used  to  have  a  good  memory  for  de- 
scriptions of  'wanteds,'  Georg.  Can  you  recall 
the  names  and  appearance  of  the  English  cap- 
tain and  the  girl  there  was  such  a  fuss  about  at 
Argenteau  a  month  ago?" 

Georg,  a  strongly-built,  rather  jovial-looking 
Hanoverian,  grinned. 

"Better  than  leaving  things  to  guess-work,  I 
have  it  in  my  pocket, ' '  he  said.  ' '  I  copied  it  at 
the  Kommandantur.  A  thousand  marks  are 
worth  a  pencilled  note,  my  boy.  Halves,  if  these 
are  they!" 

Dalroy  knew  then  that  he,  and  possibly  Irene, 
were  doomed.  A  struggle  was  impossible. 
Franz's  reference  to  Oosterzeele  being  in  Ger- 
man occupation  forbade  the  least  hope  of  suc- 
cour by  a  Belgian  force.  There  was  a  hundred 
to  one  chance  that  Irene 's  life  might  be  spared, 
and  he  resolved  to  take  it.  It  was  pitiful  to  feel 
the  girl  trembling,  and  he  gave  her  arm  an  en- 
couraging squeeze. 

Georg  was  fumbling  in  the  breast  of  his  tunic, 
when  he  seemed  to  realise  that  it  was  raining 
heavily. 

"Why  the  devil  stand  out  here  if  we're  going 
to  hold  a  court  of  inquiry?"  he  cried.  Evi- 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     213 

dently,  the  iron  discipline  of  the  German  army 
was  somewhat  relaxed  in  the  Death 's-Head 
Hussars. 

"  Go  to  the  barn, ' '  commanded  Franz.  *  *  And, 
mind,  you  pig  of  an  Englishman,  no  talking  till 
you're  spoken  to!" 

Dalroy  wondered  why  the  man  allowed  him 
to  assist  Irene ;  but  such  passing  thoughts  were 
as  straws  in  a  whirlwind.  He  bent  his  wits  to 
the  one  problem.  He  was  lost.  Could  he  save 
her?  Heaven  alone  would  decide.  A  poor 
mortal  might  only  pray  for  guidance  as  to  the 
right  course. 

Inside  the  tumbledown  barn  the  light  was 
bad,  so  the  prisoners  were  halted  in  the  door- 
way, and  a  score  of  troopers  gathered  around. 
They  were  not,  on  the  whole,  a  ruffianly  set. 
Every  man  bore  the  stamp  of  a  trained  soldier ; 
the  device  of  a  skull  and  cross-bones  worked  in 
white  braid  on  their  hussar  caps  gave  them  an 
imposing  and  martial  aspect. 

"Here  you  are!"  announced  the  burly 
Georg,  producing  a  frayed  sheet  of  paper. 
"Let's  see — there's  six  of  'em.  Henri  Joos, 
miller,  aged  sixty-five,  five  feet  three  inches. 
Elizabeth  Joos,  his  wife,  aged  forty-five.  Leon- 
tine  Joos,  daughter,  aged  nineteen,  plump, 
good-looking,  black  eyes  and  hair,  clear  com- 
plexion, red  cheeks.  Jan  Maertz,  carter,  aged 
twenty-six,  height  five  feet  eight  inches,  a  Wal- 
loon, strongly  built.  Arthur  Dalroy,  captain  in 
British  army,  about  six  feet  in  height,  of  athletic 


214  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

physique,  blue  eyes,  brown  hair,  very  good 
teeth,  regular  features.  An  English  girl,  name 
unknown,  aged  about  twenty,  very  good- 
looking,  and  of  elegant  appearance  and  car- 
riage. Eyes  believed  brown,  and  hair  dark 
brown.  Fairly  tall  and  slight,  but  well-formed. 
These  latter  (the  English)  speak  German  and 
French.  The  girl,  in  particular,  uses  good  Ger- 
man fluently." 

1  'Click!"  ejaculated  Franz,  imitating  the 
snapping  of  a  pair  of  handcuffs.  "Shave  that 
fellow,  and  rig  out  the  lady  in  her  ordinary 
togs,  and  you've  got  them  to  the  dots  on  the 
i's.  Who  are  the  first  two  for  patrol?" 

A  couple  of  men  answered. 

"Sorry,  boys,"  went  on  Franz  briskly,  "but 
you  must  hoof  it  to  Oosterzeele,  and  lay  Jan 
Maertz  by  the  heels.  You  saw  him,  I  suppose? 
You  may  even  pick  him  up  on  the  road.  If 
you  do,  bring  him  back  here. — Georg,  ride  into 
Oombergen,  show  an  officer  that  extract  from 
the  Argenteau  notice,  and  get  hold  of  a  trans- 
port. These  prisoners  are  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance. ' ' 

Irene,  who  lost  no  syllable  of  this  direful 
investigation,  had  recovered  her  self-control. 
She  turned  to  Dalroy.  Her  eyes  were  shining 
with  the  light  which,  in  a  woman,  could  have 
only  one  meaning. 

' '  Forgive  me,  dear ! ' '  she  murmured.  *  *  I  fear 
I  am  to  blame.  I  was  selfish.  I  might  have 
saved  you — —  " 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     215 

"No,  no,  none  of  that!"  interrupted  the 
corporal.  "You  go  inside,  Frdulein.  You  can 
sit  on  a  broken  ladder  near  the  door.  The 
horses  won't  hurt  you. — As  for  you,  Mr.  Cap- 
tain, you're  a  slippery  fellow,  so  we'll  hobble 
you." 

Dalroy  knew  it  was  useless  to  do  other  than 
fall  in  with  the  orders  given.  He  did  not  try 
to  answer  Irene,  but  merely  looked  at  her  and 
smiled.  Was  ever  smile  more  eloquent?  It 
was  at  once  a  message  of  undying  love  and 
farewell.  Possibly,  he  might  never  see  her 
again.  But  the  bitterness  of  approaching 
death,  enhanced  as  it  was  by  the  knowledge 
that  he  should  not  have  allowed  himself  to  drift 
blindly  into  this  open  net,  was  assuaged  in  one 
vital  particular.  The  woman  he  loved  was 
absolutely  safe  now  from  a  set  of  licentious 
brutes.  She  might  be  given  life  and  liberty. 
When  brought  before  some  responsible  mili- 
tary court  he  would  tell  the  plain  truth,  sup- 
pressing only  such  facts  as  would  tend  to  in- 
criminate their  good  friends  in  Verviers  and 
Huy.  Not  even  a  board  of  German  officers 
could  find  the  girl  guilty  of  killing  Busch  and 
his  companions,  and  this,  he  imagined,  was  the 
active  cause  of  the  hue  and  cry  raised  by  the 
authorities.  How  determined  the  hunt  had  been 
was  shown  by  the  changed  demeanour  of  the 
corporal.  The  man  was  almost  oppressed  by 
the  magnitude  of  the  capture.  Dalroy  was  con- 
vinced that  it  was  not  the  monetary  reward 


216  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

which  affected  him.  Probably  this  young  non- 
commissioned officer  saw  certain  promotion 
ahead,  and  that,  to  a  German,  is  an  all- sufficing 
inducement. 

The  prisoner's  hands  were  tied  behind  his 
back,  and  the  same  rope  was  adjusted  around 
waist  and  ankles  in  such  wise  that  movement 
was  limited  to  moderately  short  steps.  But 
Herr  Franz  did  not  hurt  him  needlessly. 
Bather  was  he  bent  on  taking  care  of  him. 
Throwing  a  cavalry  cloak  over  the  English- 
man's shoulders,  he  said,  "You  can  squat 
against  the  wall  and  keep  out  of  the  rain,  if 
you  wish." 

Dalroy  obeyed  without  a  word.  He  felt  in- 
explicably weary.  In  that  unhappy  hour  body 
and  soul  alike  were  crushed.  But  the  cloud 
lifted  soon.  His  spirit  was  the  spirit  of  the 
immortals ;  it  raised  itself  out  of  the  slough  of 
despond. 

The  day  was  closing  in  rapidly;  lowering 
clouds  and  steady  rain  conspired  to  rob  the 
sun  of  some  part  of  his  prerogatives.  At  seven 
o'clock  it  would  be  dark,  whereas  the  almanac 
fixed  the  close  of  day  at  eight.  It  was  then 
about  half-past  six. 

Resolutely  casting  off  the  torpor  which  had 
benumbed  his  brain  after  parting  from  the 
woman  he  loved,  Dalroy  looked  about  him.  The 
hussars,  some  twenty  all  told,  reduced  now  to 
seventeen,  since  the  messengers  had  ridden  off 
without  delay,  were  gathered  in  a  knot  around 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     217 

the  corporal.  Some  of  their  horses  were  teth- 
ered in  the  barn,  others  were  picketed  outside. 

Scraps  of  talk  reached  him. 

1 '  This  will  be  a  plume  in  your  cap,  Franz. ' ' 

"A  thousand  marks,  picked  up  in  a  filthy 
hole  like  this !  Almachtig!" 

1  'What  are  they?    Spies?" 

"Didn't  you  hear?  They  stabbed  Major 
Busch  with  a  stable  fork.  Jolly  old  Busch — 
one  of  the  best!" 

"And  bayoneted  two  officers  of  the  West- 
phalian  commissariat,  wounding  a  third." 

1 '  The  devil !    Was  there  a  fight  ? ' ' 

"Some  of  the  fellows  said  Busch  and  the 
others  must  have  been  drunk. ' ' 

"Quite  likely.    I  was  drunk  every  day  then." 

A  burst  of  laughter. 

* '  Lucky  dog ! ' ' 

"  Ach,  was!  what's  the  good  of  having  been 
drunk  so  long  ago?  There  isn't  a  bottle  of  wine 
now  within  five  miles. ' ' 

"Tell  us  then,  Herr  Kaporal,  do  we  remain 
here  till  dawn?" 

Dalroy  grew  faintly  interested.  It  was  ab- 
surd to  harbour  the  slightest  expectation  of  Jan 
Maertz  bringing  succour,  but  one  might  at  least 
analyse  the  position,  though  the  only  visible 
road  led  straight  to  a  firing-party. 

"Those  were  our  orders,"  answered  Franz. 
"Things  may  be  altered  now.  You  fellows 
haven't  grasped  the  real  value  of  this  cop.  It 
wasn't  stated  on  the  notice,  but  somebody  of 


218  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

much  more  importance  than  any  ordinary  officer 
was  interested  in  the  girl  being  caught — she  far 
more  than  the  man." 

' '  Well,  well !  Tastes  differ !  A  peasant  like 
that!" 

"You  silly  ass,  she's  no  peasant.  That's  the 
worst  of  living  in  a  suburb.  You  acquire  no 
standard  of  comparison." 

These  men  were  Berliners,  and  were  amused 
by  a  sly  dig  at  some  locality  which,  like  Koe- 
penick,  offered  a  butt  for  German  humour. 

"Hello!  isn't  that  a  car?"  said  one. 

There  was  silence.  The  thrumming  of  a 
powerful  automobile  could  be  heard  through  the 
patter  of  the  rain. 

"Attention!"  growled  Franz.  A  few  troop- 
ers went  to  the  picketed  horses.  The  others 
lined  up.  A  closed  motor-car  arrived.  Its  bril- 
liant head-lights  proclaimed  the  certain  fact 
that  the  presence  of  Belgian  troops  in  that  lo- 
cality was  not  feared.  Dalroy  recognised  this 
at  once,  and  forthwith  dismissed  from  his  mind 
the  last  shred  of  hope. 

The  chauffeur  was  a  soldier.  By  his  side  sat 
the  usual  armed  escort.  Georg  galloped  up. 
Oombergen  was  only  a  mile  and  a  half  distant, 
and  the  road  through  the  wood  was  in  such  a 
condition  that  the  car  was  compelled  to  travel 
slowly. 

A  cloaked  staff-officer  alighted.  The  hussars 
stood  stiff  as  so  many  ramrods.  The  new- 
comer took  their  salute  punctiliously,  but  his 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     219 

tone  in  addressing  the  corporal  was  far  from 
gracious. 

11  What's  this  unlikely  tale  you've  sent  in  to 
headquarters  I "  he  demanded  harshly. 

"I  don't  think  I'm  mistaken,  H err  Haupt- 
mann,"  was  the  answer.  "I've  got  that  Eng- 
lish captain  and  the  lady  wanted  at  Vise. 
They've  practically  admitted  it." 

"Where  are  they?" 

"The  man  is  sitting  there  against  the  wall. 
The  lady  is  in  the  barn. — Stand  up,  prisoner ! ' ' 

Franz  snatched  away  the  cloak.  Dalroy  rose 
to  his  feet.  He  was  smiling  at  the  ruthlessness 
of  Fate.  He  was  still  smiling  when  Captain 
von  Halwig,  of  the  Prussian  Imperial  Guard, 
flashed  an  electric  torch  in  his  face.  It  was  un- 
necessary, perhaps,  to  render  thus  easy  the  task 
of  recognition.  But  what  did  it  matter?  That 
lynx  of  a  corporal  was  sure  of  his  ground,  and 
would  refuse  to  be  gainsaid  even  by  a  staff- 
officer  and  a  Guardsman. 

Von  Halwig 's  astonishment  seemed  to  choke 
back  any  display  of  wrath. 

"Then  it  is  really  you?"  he  said  quietly  in 
English. 

"Yes,"  replied  Dalroy. 

The  torch  was  switched  off.  Dalroy 's  eyes 
were  momentarily  blinded  by  the  glare,  but  he 
heard  an  ugly  chuckle. 

"Where  is  the  female  prisoner?"  said  Von 
Halwig,  with  a  formality  that  was  as  perplexing 
as  his  subdued  manner. 


220  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"Here,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

The  two  entered  the  barn.  So  far  as  Dalroy 
could  judge,  no  word  was  spoken.  The  torch 
flared  again,  remained  lighted  a  full  half- 
minute,  and  was  extinguished. 

Von  Halwig  reappeared,  seemed  to  ponder 
matters,  and  turned  to  the  corporal. 

"Put  the  woman  in  my  car,"  he  said.  "Fall 
in  your  men,  and  be  ready  to  escort  me  back 
to  the  village.  You've  done  a  good  day's  work, 
corporal." 

"Two  men  have  gone  in  pursuit  of  Jan 
Maertz,  sir." 

"Never  mind.  They'll  have  sense  enough  to 
come  on  to  headquarters  if  they  catch  him. 
How  is  this  Englishman  secured?" 

The  jubilant  Franz  explained. 

"Mount  him  on  one  of  your  horses.  The 
trooper  can  squeeze  in  in  front  of  the  car.  Has 
the  female  prisoner  a  dagger  or  a  pistol  ? ' ' 

"I  have  not  searched  her,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann.'' 

"Make  sure,  but  offer  no  violence  or  dis- 
courtesy. No,  leave  this  fellow  here  at  present. 
I  want  a  few  words  with  him  in  private.  As- 
semble your  men  around  the  car,  and  take  the 
woman  there  now. ' ' 

Irene  was  led  out.  She  paused  in  the  door- 
way, and  the  corporal  thought  she  did  not  know 
what  she  was  wanted  for. 

"You  are  to  be  conveyed  in  the  automobile, 
Fraulein,"  he  said. 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     221 

But  she  was  looking  for  Dalroy  in  the  gloom. 
Before  anyone  could  interfere,  she  ran  and 
threw  her  arms  around  him,  kissing  him  on  the 
lips. 

" Good-bye,  my  dear  one!"  she  wailed  in  a 
heart-broken  way.  *  *  We  may  not  meet  again  on 
this  earth,  but  I  am  yours  to  all  eternity. ' ' 

1  'With  these  words  in  my  ears  I  shall  die 
happy, ' '  said  Dalroy.  Her  embrace  thrilled  him 
with  a  strange  ecstasy,  yet  the  pain  of  that  part- 
ing was  worse  than  death.  Were  ever  lovers* 
vows  plighted  in  such  conditions  in  the  history 
of  this  gray  old  world ! 

Franz  seized  the  girl's  arm.  She  knew  it 
would  be  undignified  to  resist.  Kissing  Dalroy 
again,  she  whispered  a  last  choking  farewell, 
and  suffered  her  guide  to  take  her  where  he 
willed.  She  walked  with  stumbling  feet.  Her 
eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears ;  but,  sustained  by 
the  pride  of  her  race,  she  refused  to  sob,  and 
bit  her  lower  lip  in  dauntless  resolve  not  to 
yield. 

The  rain  was  beating  down  now  in  heavy 
gusts.  Von  Halwig,  if  he  had  no  concern  for 
the  comfort  of  the  troopers,  had  a  good  deal  for 
his  own. 

"Damn  the  weather!"  he  grunted.  "Come 
into  the  bar.  You  can  walk,  I  suppose?" 

He  turned  on  the  torch,  which  was  controlled 
by  a  sliding  button,  and  saw  how  the  prisoner 
was  secured.  Then  he  flashed  the  light  into 
the  interior  of  the  barn.  It  was  a  ramshackle 


222  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

place  at  the  best,  and  looked  peculiarly  forlorn 
after  the  rummaging  it  had  undergone  since  the 
fight,  a  recent  picket  having  evidently  torn 
down  stalls  and  mangers  to  provide  materials 
for  a  fire.  Part  of  a  long  sloping  ladder  had 
been  consumed  for  that  purpose,  so  that  an 
open  trap-door  in  the  boarded  floor  of  an  upper 
storey  was  inaccessible.  The  barn  itself  was 
unusually  lofty,  running  to  a  height  of  twenty 
feet  or  more.  There  were  no  windows.  Some 
rats,  tempted  out  already  by  the  oats  spilled 
from  the  horses '  nose-bags,  scuttled  away  from 
the  light.  Through  the  trap-door  the  noise 
of  the  rain  pounding  on  a  shingle  roof  came 
with  a  curious  hollowness. 

Von  Halwig  did  not  extinguish  the  lamp, 
but  tucked  it  under  his  left  arm.  He  lighted 
a  cigarette.  With  each  movement  of  his  body 
the  beam  of  light  shifted.  Now  it  played  on 
the  wall,  against  which  Dalroy  leaned,  because 
the  cramped  state  of  his  arms  was  already  be- 
coming irksome;  now  it  shone  through  the 
doorway,  forming  a  sort  of  luminous  blur  in  the 
rain,  now  it  dwelt  on  the  Englishman,  standing 
there  in  his  worn  blouse,  baggy  breeches,  and 
sabots,  an  old  flannel  shirt  open  at  the  neck, 
and  a  month's  growth  of  beard  on  cheeks  and 
chin.  The  hat  which  Irene  made  fun  of  had 
been  tilted  at  a  rakish  angle  when  the  corporal 
removed  the  cloak.  Certainly  he  was  changed 
in  essentials  since  he  and  the  Guardsman  last 


AT  THE  GATES  OP  DEATH     223 

met  face  to  face  on  the  platform  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle. 

But  the  eyes  were  unalterable.  They  were 
still  resolute,  and  strangely  calm,  because  he 
had  nerved  himself  not  to  flinch  before  this 
strutting  popinjay. 

"You  wonder  why  I  have  brought  you  in 
here,  eh  ?  "  began  Von  Halwig,  in  English. 

"Perhaps  to  gloat  over  me,"  was  the  quiet 
reply. 

"No.  Is  it  necessary?  At  Aix  I  was  ex- 
cited. The  Day  had  come,  The  Day  of  which  we 
Germans  have  dreamed  for  many  a  year.  I  am 
young,  but  I  have  already  won  promotion.  I 
belong  to  an  irresistible  army.  War  steadies  a 
man.  But  when  we  reach  Oombergen  you  will 
be  paraded  before  a  crusty  old  General,  and 
even  I,  Von  Halwig  of  the  staff,  and  a  friend 
of  the  Emperor,  may  not  converse  with  a  spy 
and  a  murderer.  So  we  shall  have  a  little  chat 
now.  What  say  you?" 

"It  all  depends  what  you  wish  to  talk  about." 

"About  you  and  her  ladyship,  of  course." 

"May  I  ask  whom  you  mean  by  'her  lady- 
ship'?" 

"Isn't  that  correct  English?" 

"It  can  be,  if  applied  to  a  lady  of  title.  But 
when  used  with  reference  presumably  to  a 
young  lady  who  is  a  governess,  it  sounds  like 
clumsy  sarcasm." 

"Governess  the  devil!  With  whom,  then, 
have  you  been  roaming  Belgium?" 


224  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"Miss  Irene  Beresford,  of  course." 
"You're  not  a  fool,   Captain  Dalroy.     Do 


you  honestly  tell  me  you  don't 

"Know  what?" 

"That  the  girl  you  brought  from  Berlin  is 
Lady  Irene  Beresford,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Glastonbury.  '  ' 

There  was  a  moment  of  intense  silence.  In 
some  ways  it  was  immaterial  to  Dalroy  what 
social  position  had  been  filled  by  the  woman 
he  loved.  But,  in  others,  the  discovery  that 
Irene  was  actually  the  aristocrat  she  looked  was 
a  very  vital  and  serious  thing.  It  made  clear 
the  meaning  of  certain  references  to  distin- 
guished people,  both  in  Germany  and  in  Eng- 
land, which  had  puzzled  him  at  times.  Tran- 
scending all  else  in  importance,  it  might  even 
safeguard  her  from  German  malevolence,  since 
the  Teuton  pays  an  absurd  homage  to  mere 
rank. 

"I  did  not  know,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was 
not  so  thoroughly  under  control  as  he  desired. 

Von  Halwig  laughed  loudly.  "Almachtig!" 
he  spluttered,  "our  smart  corporal  of  hussars 
seems  to  have  spoiled  a  romance.  What  a 
pity  !  You  '11  be  shot  before  midnight,  my  gal- 
lant captain,  but  the  lady  will  be  sent  to  Berlin 
with  the  utmost  care.  Even  I,  who  have  an 
educated  taste  in  the  female  line,  daren't  wink 
at  her.  Has  she  never  told  you  why  she 
bolted  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"No." 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH     225 


"Never  hinted  that  a  royal  prince  was  wild 
about  her?" 

"No." 

"Well,  you  have  my  word  for  it.  Himmel! 
women  are  queer. ' ' 

' '  She  has  suffered  much  to  escape  from  your 
royal  prince." 

"She'll  be  returned  to  him  now,  slightly 
soiled,  but  nearly  as  good  as  new." 

* '  I  wish  my  hands  were  not  tied. ' ' 

"Oh,  no  heroics,  please.  We  have  no  time 
for  nonsense  of  that  sort.  Is  the  light  irritat- 
ing you?  I'll  put  it  here." 

Von  Halwig  stooped,  and  placed  the  torch  on 
the  broken  ladder.  Its  radiance  illumined  an 
oval  of  the  rough,  square  stones  with  which  the 
barn  was  paved.  Thenceforth,  the  vivid  glare 
remained  stationary.  The  two  men,  facing  each 
other  at  a  distance  of  about  six  feet,  were  in 
shadow.  They  could  see  each  other  quite  well, 
however,  in  the  dim  borrowed  light,  and  the 
Guardsman  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette. 

"You're  English,  I'm  German,"  he  said. 
"We  represent  the  positive  and  negative  poles 
of  thought.  If  it  hurts  your  feelings  that  I 
should  speak  of  Lady  Irene,  let's  forget  her. 
What  I  really  want  to  ask  you  is  this — why  has 
England  been  so  mad  as  to  fight  Germany?'1 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   WOODEN    HOESE   OF   TROY 

THE  question  struck  Dalroy  as  so  bizarre — 
in  the  conditions  so  ludicrous — that,  despite  the 
cold  fury  evoked  by  Von  Halwig's  innuendoes 
with  regard  to  Irene,  he  nearly  laughed. 

"I  am  in  no  mood  to  discuss  international 
politics, ' '  he  answered  curtly. 

The  other,  who  seemed  to  have  his  temper 
well  under  control,  merely  nodded.  Indeed,  he 
was  obviously,  if  unconsciously,  modelling  his 
behaviour  on  that  of  his  prisoner. 

"I  only  imagined  that  you  might  be  interested 
in  hearing  what's  going  to  happen  to  your 
damned  country,"  he  said. 

"I  know  already.  She  will  emerge  from  this 
struggle  greater,  more  renowned,  more  invinci- 
ble than  ever." 

"Dummes  zeug!  All  rubbish!  That's  your 
House  of  Commons  and  music-hall  patter, 
meant  to  tickle  the  ears  of  the  British  working- 
man.  England  is  going  to  be  wiped  off  the 
map.  We  're  obliterating  her  now.  You  've  been 
in  Belgium  a  month,  and  must  have  seen 
things  which  your  stupid  John  Bulls  at  home 
can't  even  comprehend,  which  they  never  will 
comprehend  till  too  late." 

226 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       227 

He  paused,  awaiting  a  reply  perhaps.  None 
came. 

1  'It's  rough  luck  that  you,  a  soldier  like 
myself,  may  not  share  in  the  game,  even  on  the 
losing  side,"  went  on  Von  Halwig.  "But  you 
would  be  a  particularly  dangerous  sort  of  spy 
if  you  contrived  to  reach  England,  especially 
with  the  information  I'm  now  going  to  give 
you.  You  can't  possibly  escape,  of  course. 
You  will  be  executed,  not  as  a  spy,  but  as  a 
murderer.  You  left  a  rather  heavy  mark  on 
us.  Two  soldiers  in  a  hut  near  Vise,  three 
officers  and  a  private  in  the  mill,  five  soldiers 
in  the  wood  at  Argenteau " 

"You  flatter  me,"  put  in  Dalroy.  "I  may 
have  shot  one  fellow  in  the  wood,  a  real  spy, 
named  Schwartz.  But  that  is  all.  Your  men 
killed  one  another  there." 

"The  credit  was  given  to  you,"  was  the  dry 
retort.  "But — es  ist  mir  ganz  einerlei — what 
does  it  matter?  You're  an  intelligent  English- 
man, and  that  is  why  I  am  taking  the  trouble 
to  tell  you  exactly  why  Great  Britain  will  soon 
be  Little  Britain.  Understand,  I'm  supplying 
facts,  not  war  bulletins.  On  land  you're  beaten 
already.  Our  armies  are  near  Paris.  German 
cavalry  entered  Chantilly  to-day.  Your  men 
made  a  great  stand,  and  fought  a  four  days' 
rearguard  action  which  will  figure  in  the  text- 
books for  the  next  fifty  years.  But  the  French 
are  broken,  the  English  Expeditionary  Force 
nearly  destroyed.  The  French  Government  has 


228  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

deserted  Paris  for  Bordeaux.  And,  excuse  me 
if  I  laugh,  Lord  Kitchener  has  asked  for  a 
hundred  thousand  more  men!" 

"He  will  get  five  millions  if  he  needs  them." 
Von  Halwig  swept  the  retort  aside  with  an 
impatient  flourish. 

"Too  late!  Too  late!  I'll  prove  it  to  you. 
Turkey  is  joining  us.  Bulgaria  will  come  in 
when  wanted.  Greece  won't  lift  a  finger  in  the 
Balkans,  and  a  great  army  of  Turks  led  by 
Germans  will  march  on  Egypt.  South  Africa 
will  rise  in  rebellion.  Ireland  is  quiet  for  the 
time,  but  who  knows  what  will  happen  when 
she  sees  England  on  her  knees  I  Italy  is  sitting 
on  the  fence.  The  United  States  are  snivelling, 
but  German  influence  is  too  strong  out  there 
to  permit  of  active  interference.  And,  in  any 
event,  what  can  America  do  except  look  on, 
shivering  at  the  prospect  of  her  own  turn 
coming  next?  Eussia  is  making  a  stir  in  East 
Prussia  and  along  the  Austrian  frontier,  so 
poor  Old  England  is  chortling  because  the  Slav 
is  fighting  her  battles.  It  is  to  laugh.  We'll 
pen  the  Bear  long  before  he  becomes  danger- 
ous. I  am  not  boasting,  my  friend.  Why 
should  /,  Captain  von  Halwig  of  the  Imperial 
Guard,  be  messing  about  in  a  wretched  Flemish 
village  when  our  men  are  about  to  storm  Paris 
in  the  west  and  tackle  Russia  in  the  east?  I'll 
explain.  I'm  here  because  I  know  England  so 
well.  My  job  is  to  help  in  organising  the  in- 
vading force  which  will  gather  at  Calais.  Ah ! 


that  amuses  you,  does  it?  The  British  fleet  is 
the  obstacle,  eh?  Not  it.  Seriously  now,  do 
you  regard  us  Germans  as  idiots?  No;  I'm 
sure  you  don't.  You  know.  These  fellows  in 
Parliament  don't  know.  I  assure  you,  on  my 
honour,  our  general  staff  is  confident  that  a 
German  army  will  land  on  British  soil — in 
Britain  itself  I  mean — before  Christmas." 

The  speaker  interrupted  this  flood  of  dire 
prophecy  in  order  to  light  a  fresh  cigarette. 
Then  clasping  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
strutting  with  feet  well  apart,  he  said  quite 
affably,  "Why  don't  you  put  a  question  or 
two?  If  you  believe  I'm  reciting  a  fairy  tale, 
say  so,  and  point  out  the  stupidities." 

Now,  Dalroy  had  not  been  "amused  "  by  the 
statement  that  the  Germans  might  occupy 
Calais.  He  had  already  discounted  even  worse 
reverses  as  lying  well  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility.  He  was  certain,  too,  that  the  Prus- 
sian was  saying  that  which  he  really  believed. 
But  his  nerves  of  steel  were  undoubtedly  tried 
almost  beyond  endurance  at  the  instant  Von 
Halwig  noticed  the  involuntary  movement 
which  elicited  that  uninvited  comment  on  the 
British  fleet. 

As  the  word  "Calais"  quitted  the  Guards- 
man's lips,  a  rope,  with  a  noose  at  the  end, 
dropped  with  swift  stealth  through  the  open 
trap-door.  Its  descent  was  checked  when  the 
noose  dangled  slightly  higher  than  his  head, 
and  whoever  was  manipulating  it  began  at 


230  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

once  to  swing  it  slowly  forward  and  backward. 
Von  Halwig  stood  some  six  or  seven  feet 
nearer  the  wall  than  the  point  which  the  rope 
would  have  touched  if  lowered  to  the  floor,  so 
the  objective  aimed  at  by  that  pendulum  action 
was  not  difficult  to  grasp,  being  nothing  else 
than  his  speedy  and  noiseless  extinction  by 
hanging. 

It  is  an  oft-repeated  though  far-fetched  as- 
sertion that  a  drowning  man  reviews  the  whole 
of  his  life  during  the  few  seconds  which  sep- 
arate the  last  conscious  struggle  from  complete 
anaesthesia.  That  may  or  may  not  be  true,  but 
Dalroy  now  experienced  a  brain-storm  not 
lacking  many  of  the  essentials  of  some  such 
mental  kinema. 

Think  what  that  swinging  rope,  with  its 
unseen  human  agency,  meant  to  a  captive  in  his 
hapless  position !  It  was  simply  incredible  that 
one  man  alone  would  attempt  so  daring  an 
expedient.  Not  only,  then,  were  a  number  of 
plucky  and  resourceful  allies  concealed  in  the 
loft,  but  they  must  have  been  hidden  there 
before  the  detachment  of  Death 's-Head  Hus- 
sars occupied  the  barn  beneath.  Therefore, 
they  knew  the  enemy's  strength,  yet  were  not 
afraid.  That  they  were  ready-witted  was 
shown  by  the  method  evolved  for  the  suppres- 
sion of  that  blatant  Teuton,  Von  Halwig.  It 
was  evident,  too,  that  they  had  intended  to  lie 
perdu  till  the  cavalry  were  gone,  but  had  been 
moved  to  action  by  a  desire  to  rescue  the  bound 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       231 

Englishman  who  was  being  twitted  so  out- 
rageously on  his  own  and  his  country's  sup- 
posed misfortunes.  Who  could  they  be  f  Were 
they  armed,  and  sufficiently  numerous  to  rout 
the  Germans?  In  any  event,  how  could  they 
deliver  an  effective  attack?  He,  Dalroy,  took 
it  for  granted  that  the  imminent  strangulation 
of  the  Guardsman,  if  successful,  was  but  the 
prelude  to  a  sharp  fight,  since  Von  Halwig's 
death,  though  supremely  dramatic  as  an  iso- 
lated incident,  would  neither  benefit  the  pris- 
oners nor  conduce  to  the  well-being  of  the 
people  in  the  loft.  How,  then,  did  they  pur- 
pose dealing  with  a  score  of  trained  soldiers, 
who  must  already  be  fidgeting  in  the  rain,  and 
whose  leader,  the  corporal,  might  look  in  at 
any  moment  to  ascertain  what  was  delaying  the 
young  staff  captain.  Discipline  was  all  very 
well,  but  these  hussars  belonged  to  a  crack 
regiment,  and  their  colonel  would  resent 
strongly  the  needless  exposure  of  his  men  and 
horses  to  inclement  weather.  Moreover,  how 
easy  it  was  for  the  corporal  to  convey  a  polite 
hint  to  Von  Halwig  by  asking  if  the  chauffeur 
should  not  turn  the  car  in  readiness  for  his 
departure ! 

All  this,  and  more,  cascaded  through  Dal- 
roy's  brain  while  his  enemy  was  lighting  the 
second  cigarette.  He  was  in  the  plight  of  a 
shipwrecked  sailor  clinging  to  a  sinking  craft, 
who  saw  a  lifeboat  approaching,  yet  dared 
neither  look  at  nor  signal  to  it.  He  must  bend 


232  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

all  his  energies  now  to  the  task  of  keeping  Von 
Halwig  occupied.  What  would  happen  when 
the  noose  coiled  around  the  orator's  neck? 
Would  it  tighten  with  sufficient  rapidity  to 
choke  a  cry  for  help  ?  Would  it  fall  awkwardly, 
and  warn  him?  Were  any  of  the  troopers  so 
placed  that  they  could  see  into  that  section  of 
the  barn,  and  thus  witness  their  officer's  ex- 
traordinary predicament?  Who  could  tell? 
How  might  a  man  form  any  sort  of  opinion  as 
to  the  yea  or  nay  of  a  juggler's  feat  which 
savoured  of  black  magic  ? 

Dalroy  gave  up  the  effort  to  guess  what  the 
next  half-minute  might  bring  forth.  Those 
mysterious  beings  up  there  needed  the  best  help 
he  could  offer,  and  his  powers  in  that  respect 
\5jpre  strictly  limited  to  two  channels — he  must 
*  egg  on  the  talker — he  must  not  watch  that  rope. 

' '  I  am  ready  to  admit  Germany 's  strength  on 
land,"  he  said,  resolutely  fixing  his  eyes  on  an 
iron  cross  attached  to  the  Prussian's  tunic 
above  the  top  button.  "That  is  a  reasonable 
claim.  How  futile  otherwise  would  have  been 
your  twenty  years  of  preparation  for  this  very 
war!  But  my  mind  is  far  too  dense  to  under- 
stand how  you  can  disregard  the  English 
Channel." 

"The  English  Channel!"  scoffed  Von  Hal- 
wig.  "The  impudence  of  you  verdammt 

No,  it's  foolish  to  lose  one's  temper.  Well,  I'll 
explain.  The  realjly  important  part  of  the 
English  Channel  is  about  to  become  German. 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY   233 

For  a  little  time  we  leave  you  the  surface,  but 
Germany  will  own  the  rest.  Your  navy  is  about 
to  receive  a  horrible  surprise.  We've  caught 
you  napping.  While  Britain  was  ruling  the  sea 
we  Germans  have  been  experimenting  with  it. 
Our  visible  fleet  is  good,  but  not  good  enough, 
so  we  allowed  your  naval  superiority  to  keep 
you  quiet  until  we  had  perfected  our  invisible 
fleet.  We  are  ready  now.  We  possess  three 
submarines  to  your  one;  and  can  build  more, 
and  bigger,  and  better  under-sea  boats  than  you. 
Do  you  realise  what  that  means?  Already  we 
have  sunk  four  of  your  best  cruisers,  and  they 
never  saw  the  vessel  that  destroyed  them.  We 
are  playing  havoc  with  your  mercantile  marine. 
Britain  is  girdled  with  mines  and  torpedoes. 
No  ship  can  enter  or  leave  any  of  your  ports 
without  incurring  the  almost  unavoidable  risk 
of " 

A  rat  scampered  across  one  of  the  speaker's 
feet,  and  startled  him. 

He  swore,  dropped  the  cigarette,  and  lighted 
another,  the  third.  Like  every  junior  officer 
of  the  German  corps  d' elite,  he  had  sedulously 
copied  the  manners  and  bearing  of  the  commis- 
sioned ranks  in  the  British  army.  But  your 
true  German  is  neurotic ;  the  rat  had  scratched 
the  veneer.  Meanwhile  the  rope  rose  quickly 
half-way  to  the  trap-door;  it  fell  again  when 
Von  Halwig  donned  the  prophet's  mantle  once 
more. 

"We  can  not  only  ruin  and  starve  you,"  he 


234  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

said  exultantly,  "but  we  have  guns  which  will 
beat  a  way  for  our  troops  from  Calais  to  Dover 
against  all  the  ships  you  dare  mass  in  those 
waters.  We  have  you  bested  in  every  way. 
Each  German  company  takes  the  field  with 
more  machine-guns  than  a  British  regi- 
ment. We  have  high  explosives  you  never 
heard  of.  While  you  were  playing  polo  and 
golf  our  chemists  were  busy  in  their  labor- 
atories." 

His  voice  rose  as  he  reeled  off  this  litany  of 
war.  His  perfect  command  of  English  was  not 
proof  against  the  guttural  clank  and  crash  of 
German.  He  became  a  veritable  German  talk- 
ing English,  rather  than  an  accomplished  lin- 
guist using  a  foreign  tongue.  Oddly  enough, 
his  next  tirade  showed  that  he  was  half -aware 
of  the  change.  "Old  England  is  done,  Captain 
Dalroy,"  he  chanted.  "Young  Germany  is 
about  to  take  her  place.  The  world  must  learn 
to  speak  German,  not  English.  Six  months 
from  now  I'll  begin  to  forget  your  makeshift 
language.  Six  months  from  now  the  German 
Eagle  will  flaunt  in  the  breeze  as  securely  in 
London  as  it  flies  to-day  in  Berlin  and  Brussels, 
and,  it  may  be,  in  Paris.  If  I'm  lucky,  and  get 
through  the  war Gott  in  Himm " 

With  a  sudden  vicious  swoop  the  noose  set- 
tled on  Von  Halwig's  shoulders,  and  was  jerked 
taut.  A  master-hand  made  that  cast.  No 
American  cowboy  ever  placed  lasso  more  neatly 
on  the  horns  of  unruly  steer.  At  one  instant 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       235 

the  rope  was  swinging  back  and  forth  noise- 
lessly ;  at  the  next,  rising  under  the  impetus  of 
a  gentle  flick,  it  whirled  over  the  Prussian's 
head  and  tightened  around  his  neck.  He  tore 
madly  at  it  with  both  hands,  but  was  already 
lifted  off  his  feet,  and  in  process  of  being 
hauled  upward  with  an  almost  incredible  ra- 
pidity. There  was  a  momentary  delay  when 
his  head  reached  the  level  of  the  trap-door ;  but 
Dalroy  distinctly  saw  two  hands  grasp  the 
struggling  arms  and  heave  the  Guardsman's 
long  body  out  of  sight. 

An  astounding  feature  of  this  tragic  episode 
was  the  absence  of  any  outcry  on  the  victim's 
part.  He  uttered  no  sound  other  than  a  stifled 
gurgle  after  that  half-completed  exclamation 
was  stilled.  Possibly,  his  dazed  wits  concen- 
trated on  the  one  frantic  endeavour — to  get  rid 
of  that  horrible  choking  thing  which  had 
clutched  at  him  from  out  of  the  surrounding 
obscurity. 

And  now  a  thick  knotted  rope  plumped  down 
until  its  end  lay  on  the  floor,  and  a  rough- 
looking  fellow,  clothed  like  Maertz  or  Dalroy 
himself,  descended  with  the  ease  and  agility  of 
a  monkey.  He  was  just  the  kind  of  shaggy 
goblin  one  might  expect  to  emerge  from  any 
such  hiding-place ;  but  he  carried  a  slung  rifle, 
and  the  bewildered  prisoner,  taking  a  few  steps 
forward  to  greet  his  rescuer,  realised  that  the 
weapon  was  a  Lee-Enfield  of  the  latest  British 
army  pattern. 


236  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

'  *  'Arf  a  mo ',  sir, ' '  gurgled  the  new-comer  in 
a  husky  and  cheerful  whisper.  "I'll  'old  the 
rope  till  the  next  of  ahr  little  knot  'as  shinned 
dahn.  Then  I'll  cut  yer  loose,  an'  we'll  get  the 
wind  up  ahtside.  Didjever  'ear  such  a  gas-bag 
as  that  bloomin'  Jarman?  Lord  luv'  a 
duck,  'e  couldn't  'arf  tork!  But  Shiney 
Black,  one  of  ahrs,  'as  just  shoved  a  bynit 
through  'is  gizzard,  so  that  cock  won't  crow 
ag'ine!" 

Dalroy  owned  only  a  reader's  knowledge  of 
colloquial  cockney.  He  inferred,  rather  than 
actually  understood,  that  several  British  sol- 
diers were  secreted  in  the  loft,  and  that 
one  of  them,  named  "Shiney  Black,"  had 
closed  Von  Halwig's  career  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye. 

By  this  time  another  man  had  reached  the 
ground.  He  seized  the  rope  and  steadied  it, 
and  a  third  appeared.  The  first  gnome  whipped 
out  a  knife,  freed  Dalroy,  unslung  his  rifle,  and 
picked  up  the  electric  torch,  which  he  held  so 
that  its  beam  filled  the  doorway.  Man  after 
man  came  down.  Each  was  armed  with  a 
regulation  rifle;  Dalroy,  for  once  thrown  com- 
pletely off  his  balance,  became  dimly  aware 
that  in  every  instance  the  equipment  included 
bayonet,  bandolier,  and  haversack. 

The  cohort  formed  up,  too,  as  though  they 
had  rehearsed  the  procedure  in  the  gymnasium 
at  Aldershot.  There  was  no  muttered  order, 
no  uncertainty.  Rifles  were  unslung,  bayonets 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       237 

fixed,  and  safety  catches  turned  over  sound- 
lessly. 

Conquering  his  blank  amazement  as  best  he 
could,  Dalroy  inquired  of  the  first  sprite  how 
many  the  party  consisted  of,  all  told. 

" Twelve  an'  the  corp'ral,  sir,'*  came  the 
prompt  answer.  "The  lucky  thirteen  we  calls 
ahrselves.  An'  we  wanted  a  bit  o'  luck  ter  leg 
it  all  the  w'y  from  Monze  to  this  'ole.  Not  that 
we  'adn't  ter  kill  any  Gord's  quantity  o'  Yew- 
lans  when  they  troied  ter  be  funny,  an'  stop 
us Here 's  the  corp  'ral,  sir. ' ' 

Dalroy  was  confronted  by  a  clear-eyed  man, 
whose  square-shouldered  erectness  was  not  con- 
cealed by  the  unkempt  clothes  of  a  Belgian 
peasant.  Carrying  the  rifle  at  "the  slope,"  and 
bringing  his  right  hand  smartly  across  to  the 
small  of  the  butt,  the  leader  of  this  lost  legion 
announced  himself. 

"Corporal  Bates,  sir,  A  Company,  2nd 
Battalion  of  the  Buffs.  That  German  of- 
ficer made  out,  sir,  that  you  were  in  our 
army. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  am  Captain  Dalroy,  of  the  2nd 
Bengal  Lancers." 

Corporal  Bates  became,  if  possible,  even  more 
clear-eyed. 

"Stationed  where  last  year,  sir?" 

"At  Lucknow,  with  your  own  battalion." 

"Well,  I'm — beg  pardon,  sir,  but  are  you  the 
Lieutenant  Dalroy  who  rode  the  winner  of  the 
Civil  Service  Cup?" 


238  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"Yes,  the  Maharajah  of  Chutneypore's 
Diwan." 

"Good  enough!  You  understand,  sir,  I  had 
to  ask.  Will  you  take  command,  sir!" 

"No  indeed,  corporal.  I  shall  only  humbly 
advise.  But  we  must  rescue  the  lady. ' ' 

"I  heard  and  saw  all  that  passed,  sir.  The 
Germans  are  mounted.  The  lady's  in  the  car. 
We  were  watching  through  a  hole  in  the  roof. 
The  last  man  remained  there  so  as  to  warn  us 
if  any  of  'em  came  this  way.  As  you  know 
their  lingo,  sir,  I  recommend  that  when  we 
creep  out  you  tell  'em  to  dismount.  They'll  do 
it  like  a  shot.  Then  we  '11  rush  'em.  Here 's  the 
officer's  pistol.  You  might  take  care  of  the 
shuffer  and  the  chap  by  his  side." 

"Excellent,  corporal.  Just  one  suggestion. 
Let  half  of  your  men  steal  round  to  the  rear, 
whether  or  not  the  troopers  dismount.  They 
should  be  headed  off  from  Oombergen,  the  vil- 
lage near  here,  where  they  have  two  squad- 
rons." 

"Right,  sir. — Smithy,  take  the  left  half- 
section,  and  cut  off  the  retreat  on  the  left. — 
Ready,  sir  ? — Douse  that  glim ! ' ' 

Out  went  the  torch.  Fourteen  shadows 
flitted  forth  into  the  darkness  and  rain.  The 
car,  with  its  staring  headlights,  was  drawn  up 
about  thirty  yards  away,  and  somewhat  to  the 
left.  On  both  sides  and  in  rear  were  grouped 
the  hussars,  men  and  horses  looming  up  in 
spectral  shapes.  The  raindrops  shone  like  tiny 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       239 

shafts  of  polished  steel  in  the  two  cones  of 
radiance  cast  by  the  acetylene  lamps. 

Dalroy,  miraculously  become  a  soldier  again, 
saw  instantly  that  the  troopers  were  cloaked, 
and  their  carbines  in  the  buckets.  He  waited 
a  few  seconds  while  ''Smithy"  and  his  band 
crept  swiftly  along  the  wall  of  the  barn.  Then, 
copying  to  the  best  of  his  ability  the  shrill 
yell  of  a  German  officer  giving  a  command,  he 
shouted, ' '  Squad — dismount ! ' ' 

He  was  obeyed  with  a  clatter  of  accoutre- 
ments. He  ran  forward.  Not  knowing  the 
'  *  system ' '  perfected  by  the  ' '  lucky  thirteen, ' '  he 
looked  for  an  irregular  volley  at  close  range, 
throwing  the  hussars  into  inextricable  con- 
fusion. But  not  a  rifle  was  fired  until  some 
seconds  after  he  himself  had  shot  and  killed  or 
seriously  wounded  the  chauffeur  and  the  escort. 
For  all  that,  thirteen  hussars  were  already  out 
of  action.  The  men  who  had  crossed  Belgium 
from  Mons  had  learnt  to  depend  on  the  bayonet, 
which  never  missed,  and  was  silent  and 
efficacious. 

The  affair  seemed  to  end  ere  it  had  well  be- 
gun. Only  two  troopers  succeeded  in  mounting 
their  plunging  horses,  and  they,  finding  the 
road  to  Oombergen  barred,  tried  to  bolt  west- 
ward, whereupon  they  were  bowled  over  like 
rabbits.  Their  terrified  chargers,  after  scam- 
pering wildly  a  few  paces,  trotted  back  to  the 
others.  Not  one  of  the  twenty  got  away.  Ham- 
pered by  their  heavy  cloaks,  and  taken  com- 


240  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

pletely  by  surprise,  the  hussars  offered  hardly 
any  resistance,  but  fell  cursing  and  howling. 
As  for  the  pair  seated  in  front  of  the  car,  they 
never  knew  why  or  how  death  came. 

"Now,  then,  Smithy,  show  a  light!"  shouted 
Corporal  Bates.  "Ah!  there  you  are,  sir!  I 
meant  to  make  sure  of  this  chap.  I  got  him 
straight  off." 

The  torch  revealed  Corporal  Franz  stretched 
on  his  back,  and  frothing  blood,  Bates 's  bayonet 
having  pierced  his  lungs.  It  were  better  for 
the  shrewd  Berliner  if  his  wits  had  been  duller 
and  his  mind  cleaner.  Not  soldierly  zeal  but  a 
gross  animalism  led  him  in  the  first  instance 
to  make  a  really  important  arrest.  His  ghoulish 
intent  was  requited  now  in  full  measure,  and  the 
life  wheezed  out  of  him  speedily  as  he  lay  there 
quivering  in  the  gloom  and  mire  of  that  rain- 
swept woodland  road.  Seldom,  even  when  suc- 
cessfully ambushed,  has  any  small  detachment 
of  troops  been  destroyed  so  quickly  and  thor- 
oughly. This  killing  was  almost  an  artistic 
triumph. 

"Fall  in!"  growled  Bates.  "Any  casual- 
ties?" 

"If  there  is,  the  blighters  oughter  be  court- 
mawshalled,"  chirped  Smith. 

A  momentary  shuffling  of  grotesque  forms, 
and  a  deep  voice  boomed,  "Half-time  score — 
England  twenty,  Germany  nil." 

"Left  section — look  'em  over,  and  carry  any 
wounded  men  likely  to  live  into  the  barn, ' '  said 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       241 

the  corporal.  "Give  'em  first  aid  an'  water- 
bottles.  Step  lively  too!  Right  section — hold 
the  horses." 

This  leader  and  his  men  were  as  skilled  in 
the  business  of  slaying  an  enemy  as  Robin 
Hood  and  his  band  of  poachers  in  the  taking  of 
the  king's  venison.  Dalroy  knew  they  needed 
no  guidance  from  him.  He  opened  the  door  of 
the  car. 

'  *  Irene ! "  he  said. 

She  was  sitting  there,  a  forlorn  figure  hud- 
dled up  in  a  corner.  The  windows  were  closed. 
Each  sheet  of  glass  was  so  blurred  by  the  swirl- 
ing rain  that  she  could  not  possibly  make  out 
the  actual  cause  of  the  external  hubbub.  After 
the  hard  schooling  of  the  past  month  she  real- 
ised, of  course,  that  a  rescue  was  being  at- 
tempted. Naturally,  too,  she  put  it  down  to  the 
escape  of  Maertz.  Although  her  heart  was 
thrumming  wildly,  her  soul  on  fire  with  a  hope 
almost  dangerous  in  its  frenzy,  she  resolved 
not  to  stir  from  her  prison  until  the  one  man 
she  longed  to  see  again  in  this  world  came  to 
free  her. 

Yet  when  she  heard  his  voice  the  tension 
snapped  so  suddenly  that  there  was  peril  in  the 
other  extreme.  She  sat  so  still  that  Dalroy  said 
a  second  time,  with  a  curious  sharpness  of  tone, 
"Irene!" 

"Yes,  dear,"  she  contrived  to  murmur 
hoarsely. 

"It's  all  over.    A  squad  of  British  soldiers 


242  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

dropped  from  the  skies.  Every  German  is  laid 
out,  Von  Halwig  with  the  rest." 

' l  Von  Halwig !    Is  he  dead  f  " 

"Yes." 

* '  I  am  glad.  Arthur,  they  have  not  wounded 
you?" 

"Not  a  scratch." 

"AndMaertz?" 

"We  must  see  to  him.  Will  you  come  out? 
Never  mind  the  rain." 

'  *  The  rain !  Ah,  dear  God,  that  I  should  feel 
the  blessed  rain  beating  on  my  face  once  more 
in  liberty!" 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  they  stood  for  a 
moment,  peering  deep  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"Arthur,"  she  said,  so  quietly  now  that  the 
storm  seemed  to  have  passed  from  her  spirit, 
"you  have  work  to  do.  I  shall  not  keep  you. 
Tell  me  where  to  wait,  and  there  you  shall  find 
me.  But,  before  you  go,  promise  me  one  thing. 
If  we  fall  again  into  the  hands  of  the  Germans, 
shoot  me  before  I  become  their  prisoner." 

"No  need  to  talk  of  that,"  he  soothed  her. 
"We  have  a  splendid  escort.  In  two 
hours " 

She  caught  him  by  both  shoulders. 

"You  must  promise,"  she  cried  vehemently. 

He  was  startled  by  the  vibrant  passion  in  her 
voice.  He  began  then  to  understand  the  real 
horrors  of  Irene's  vigil,  whether  in  the  rat- 
infested  darkness  of  the  barn  or  the  cushioned 
luxury  of  the  limousine. 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       243 

"Yes,"  he  muttered  savagely,  "I  promise." 

Taking  her  by  the  arm,  he  led  her  to  the 
front  of  the  car,  where,  clearly  visible  herself, 
she  would  see  little  if  aught  of  the  shambles 
in  rear. 

Corporal  Bates  hurried  up. 

"Her  ladyship  all  right,  sir?"  he  inquired 
briskly. 

"Yes,"  replied  Dalroy,  conscious  of  a  slight 
tremulousness  in  the  arm  he  was  holding. 

Corporal  Bates,  though  in  all  probability  he 
had  never  even  heard  of  Bacon's  somewhat 
trite  aphorism,  was  essentially  an  "exact" 
man.  He  never  erred  as  to  distinctions  of  rank 
or  title.  His  salute  was  the  pride  of  the  Buffs. 
Blithely  regardless  of  the  fact  that  not  more 
than  five  minutes  earlier  Captain  Dalroy  had 
confessed  himself  ignorant  of  Lady  Irene 
Beresford's  actual  social  status,  he  alluded  to 
her  "correctly." 

"I  think,  sir,"  he  rattled  on,  "that  we  ought 
to  be  moving.  It's  quite  dark  now,  an'  we 
have  our  route  marked  out." 

"How?" 

"We've  been  directed  by  a  priest,  sir.  The 
Belgian  priests  have  done  us  a  treat.  In  every 
village  they  showed  us  the  safest  roads. 
Even  when  they  couldn't  make  us  under- 
stand their  lingo  they  could  always  pencil  a 
map." 

"I  see.  Do  you  follow  the  road  to  Ooster- 
zeele?" 


244  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"For  about  a  mile,  sir.  Then  we  branch  off 
into  a  lane  leading  west  to  the  river  Schelde, 
which  we  cross  by  a  ferry.  Once  past  that 
ferry,  an'  there's  no  more  Germans." 

"Very  well.  Have  you  searched  the  enemy 
for  papers  I ' ' 

"Yes,  sir.  We're  stuffed  with  note-books  an* 
other  little  souveeners. ' ' 

"Do  your  men  ride?" 

"Some  of  'em,  sir,  but  they'll  foot  it,  if  you 
don't  mind.  They  hate  killing  horses,  so  we 
turn  'em  loose  generally.  This  lot  should  be 
tied  up. ' ' 

"What  of  the  car?" 

"Smithy  will  attend  to  that  with  a  bomb, 
sir." 

Bates  evidently  knew  his  business,  so  evi- 
dently that  Dalroy  did  not  even  question  him 
as  to  the  true  inwardness  of  Smithy's  atten- 
tions. 

The  squad  cleared  up  their  tasks  with  an 
extraordinary  celerity.  Smithy  crawled  under 
the  automobile  with  the  flashlight,  remained 
there  exactly  thirty  seconds,  and  reappeared. 

The  corporal  saluted. 

"We're  ready  now,  sir,"  he  said.  "Perhaps 
her  ladyship  will  march  with  you  behind  the 
centre  file?" 

*  *  Do  you  head  the  column  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then,  for  a  little  way,  we'll  accompany  you. 
There  were  three  in  our  party,  corporal.  One, 


THE  WOODEN  HORSE  OF  TROY       245 

a  Belgian  named  Jan  Maertz,  risked  death  to 
get  away  and  bring  help.  I'm  afraid  he  has 
been  captured  on  the  Oosterzeele  road  by  two 
hussars  detailed  for  the  job.  So,  you  see,  I 
must  try  and  save  him." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   MAKNE — AND   AFTER 

"THAT'S  awkward,  sir,"  said  the  corporal, 
as  the  detachment  moved  off  into  the  night, 
leaving  the  motor-car's  acetylene  lamps  still 
blazing  merrily. 

"Why  'awkward'?"  demanded  Dalroy. 

"Because,  when  we  fellows  met  in  a  wood 
near  Monze,  we  agreed  that  we  'd  stick  together, 
and  fight  to  a  finish;  but  if  any  man  strayed 
by  accident,  or  got  hit  so  badly  that  he  couldn't 
march,  he  took  his  chances,  and  the  rest  went 
on." 

"Quite  right.  How  does  that  affect  the 
present  situation!" 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Bates,  after  a  pause, 
"there's  you  an'  the  lady.  Our  chaps  are  in- 
terested, if  I  may  say  it.  You  ought  to  have 
heard  their  langwidge,  even  in  whispers,  when 
that — well,  I  can't  call  him  anything  much 
worse  than  what  he  was,  a  German  officer — 
when  he  was  telling  you  off,  sir. ' ' 

"What  did  the  German  officer  say,  ser- 
geant?" put  in  Irene  innocently. 

"Corporal,  your  ladyship.  Corporal  Bates, 
of  the  2nd  Buffs." 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  to  interrupt,"  said  Dal- 
roy. *  *  You  must  give  Lady  Irene  a  full  account 

246 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER     247 

some  other  time.  If  you  are  planning  to  cross 
the  Schelde  to-night  there  is  a  long  march  be- 
fore you.  We  part  company  at  the  lane  you 
spoke  of.  I  leave  her  ladyship  in  the  care  of 
you  and  your  men  with  the  greatest  confidence. 
I  make  for  Oosterzeele.  If  Jan  Maertz  is  a 
prisoner,  I  must  do  what  lies  in  my  power  to 
rescue  him.  If  I  fail,  I'll  follow  on  and  report 
at  Gand  in  the  morning. ' ' 

For  a  little  while  none  spoke.  The  other 
men  marched  in  silence,  a  safeguard  which  they 
had  made  a  rigid  rule  while  piercing  their  way 
by  night  through  an  unknown  country  held  by 
an  enemy  who  would  not  have  given  quarter  to 
any  English  soldier. 

Bates  was  really  a  very  sharp  fellow.  He 
had  sense  enough  to  know  that  he  had  said 
enough  already.  Dalroy's  use  of  Irene's  title 
conveyed  a  hint  of  complications  rather  beyond 
the  ken  of  one  whose  acquaintance  with  the 
facts  was  limited  to  an  overheard  conversation 
between  strangers.  Moreover,  soldier  that  he 
was,  the  corporal  realised  that  one  of  his  own 
officers  was  not  only  deliberately  risking  his 
life  in  order  to  save  that  of  a  Belgian  peasant, 
but  felt  in  honour  bound  to  do  no  less. 

So  Irene  was  left  to  tread  the  narrow  path 
unaided.  To  her  lasting  credit,  she  neither 
flinched  nor  faltered. 

"We  may  find  it  difficult  to  reach  Gand,  so 
I'll  wait  for  you  in  Ostend,  Arthur,"  she  said 
composedly. 


248  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Now,  these  two  young  people  had  just  been 
snatched  from  death,  or  worse,  in  a  manner 
which,  a  few  weeks  earlier,  the  least  critical 
reader  of  romantic  fiction  would  have  de- 
nounced as  so  wildly  improbable  that  imagina- 
tion boggled  at  it.  Irene,  too,  had  unmistakably 
told  the  man  who  had  never  uttered  a  word  of 
the  love  that  was  consuming  him  that  neither 
rank  nor  wealth  could  interpose  any  barrier 
between  them.  It  was  hard,  almost  unbearable, 
that  they  should  be  parted  in  the  very  hour 
when  freedom  might  truly  come  with  the  dawn. 

Dalroy  trudged  a  good  twenty  paces  before 
he  dared  trust  his  voice.  Even  then,  he  blurted 
out,  not  the  measured  agreement  which  his 
brain  dictated,  but  a  prayer  from  his  very  heart. 
"May  God  bless  and  guard  you,  dear!"  was 
what  he  said,  and  Irene's  response  was  choked 
by  a  pitiful  little  sob. 

Suddenly  Dalroy,  whose  hearing  was  quick- 
ened by  the  training  of  Indian  shikar,  touched 
the  corporal's  arm,  and  stood  fast.  Bates  gave 
a  peculiar  click  in  his  throat,  and  the  squad 
halted,  each  man's  feet  remaining  in  whatever 
position  they  happened  to  be  at  the  moment. 

"Horses  coming  this  way,"  breathed  Dalroy. 

"Eight,  sir.  This '11  be  your  two,  with  Jan 
wot's-his-name,  I  hope.  Leave  them  to  us,  sir. 
— Smithy,  Macdonald,  and  Shiner — forward!" 

Three  shapes  materialised  close  to  the  trio 
in  front.  The  rain  was  still  pelting  down,  and 
the  trees  nearly  met  overhead,  so  the  road  was 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  249 

discernible  only  by  a  strip  of  skyline,  itself 
merely  a  less  dense  blackness. 

"Them  two  Yewlans,"  explained  the  cor- 
poral, "probably  bringing  a  prisoner.  Mind 
you  don't  hurt  him." 

No  more  explicit  instructions  were  given  or 
needed.  Of  such  material  were  the  First  Hun- 
dred Thousand. 

"Take  her  ladyship  back  a  few  yards,  sir," 
gurgled  Bates.  * '  The  horses  may  bolt.  If  they 
do  we  must  stop  'em  before  they  gallop  over 
us." 

Every  other  consideration  was  banished  in- 
stantly by  the  thrill  of  approaching  combat. 
By  this  time,  Dalroy  was  steeped  in  admira- 
tion for  his  escort's  methods,  and  he  awaited 
developments  now  with  keen  professional  curi- 
osity. And  this  is  what  he  saw,  after  a 
breathless  interval.  A  flash  in  the  gloom,  and 
the  vague  silhouettes  of  two  hussars  on  horse- 
back. One  horse  reared,  the  other  swerved. 
One  man  never  spoke.  The  other  rapped  out 
an  oath  which  merged  into  a  frantic  squeal. 
By  an  odd  trick  of  memory,  Dalroy  recalled  old 
Joos's  description  of  the  death  of  Busch:  "He 
squealed  like  a  pig." 

Then  came  a  cockney  voice,  * '  Cheer-o,  mitey ! 
We're  friends,  ammies !  Damn  it  all,  you  ain't 
tikin'  us  for  Boshes,  are  yer?" 

"Hola!    Jan  Maertz!"  shouted  Dalroy. 

"Monsieur!" 

Irene  laughed — yes,  laughed,  though  two  men 


250  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

had  died  before  her  eyes! — at  the  amazement 
conveyed  by  the  Walloon's  gruff  yelp. 

''Don't  be  alarmed!  These  are  friends,  Brit- 
ish soldiers,"  went  on  Dalroy. 

"I  thought  they  were  devils  from  hell,"  was 
the  candid  answer. 

Jan  was  unquestionably  frightened.  For  one 
thing,  his  hands  were  tied  behind  his  back,  and 
he  was  being  led  by  a  halter  fashioned  out  of 
a  heel-rope,  a  plight  in  which  the  Chevalier 
Bayard  himself  might  have  quaked.  For  an- 
other, he  had  been  plodding  along  at  the  side  of 
one  of  the  horses,  thinking  bitterly  of  the  fair 
Leontine,  whose  buxom  waist  he  would  never 
squeeze  again,  when  a  beam  of  dazzling  light 
revealed  a  crouching,  nondescript  being  which 
flung  itself  upward  in  a  panther-like  spring,  and 
buried  a  bayonet  to  the  socket  in  the  body  of 
the  nearest  trooper.  No  wonder  Jan  was 
scared. 

The  soldiers  had  caught  both  horses.  Dal- 
roy, a  cavalryman,  had  abandoned  the  earlier 
remounts  with  a  twinge  of  regret.  He  thought 
now  there  was  no  reason  why  he  and  Irene 
should  not  ride,  as  the  day's  tramp,  not  to  speak 
of  the  strain  of  the  past  hour,  might  prove  a 
drawback  before  morning. 

"Can  you  sit  a  horse  astride  I"  he  asked  her. 

"I  prefer  it,"  she  said  promptly. 

Bates  offered  no  objection,  as  long  as  they 
followed  in  rear.  The  hussar's  cloaks  came  in 
useful,  and  Dalroy  buckled  on  a  sword-belt. 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  251 

Jan  announced  that  he  was  good  for  another 
twenty  miles  provided  he  could  win  clear  of 
those  sales  Alboches.  He  was  eager  to  relate 
his  adventures,  but  Dalroy  quieted  him  by  the 
downright  statement  that  if  his  tongue  wagged 
he  might  soon  be  either  a  prisoner  again  or 
dead. 

A  night  so  rife  with  hazard  could  hardly  close 
tamely.  The  rain  cleared  off,  and  the  stars 
came  out  ere  they  reached  the  ferry  on  the 
Schelde,  and  a  scout  sent  ahead  came  back  with 
the  disquieting  news  that  a  strong  cavalry 
picket,  evidently  on  the  alert,  held  the  right 
bank.  But  the  thirteen  had  made  a  specialty  of 
disposing  of  German  pickets  in  the  dark.  In 
those  early  days  of  the  war,  and  particularly  in 
Flanders,  Teuton  nerves  were  notoriously 
jumpy,  so  the  little  band  crept  forward  reso- 
lutely, dodging  from  tree  to  tree,  and  into  and 
out  of  ditches,  until  they  could  see  the  stars 
reflected  in  the  river.  Dalroy  and  Irene  had 
dismounted  at  the  first  tidings  of  the  enemy, 
turning  a  pair  of  contented  horses  into  a 
meadow.  They  and  Maertz,  of  course,  had  to 
keep  well  behind  the  main  body. 

The  troopers,  veritable  Uhlans  this  time,  had 
posted  neither  sentry  nor  vedette  in  the  lane. 
Behind  them,  they  thought,  lay  Germany.  In 
front,  across  the  river,  the  small  army  of  Bel- 
gium held  the  last  strip  of  Belgian  territory, 
which  then  ran  in  an  irregular  line  from  Ant- 
werp through  Gand  to  Nieuport.  So  the  picket 


252  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

watched  the  black  smudge  of  the  opposite  bank, 
and  talked  of  the  Kron-Prinz's  stalwarts  hack- 
ing their  way  into  Paris,  and  never  dreamed  of 
being  assailed  from  the  rear,  until  a  number  of 
sturdy  demons  pounced  on  them,  and  did  some 
pretty  bayonet- work. 

Fight  there  was  none.  Those  Uhlans  able  to 
run  ran  for  their  lives.  One  fellow,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  mounted,  clapped  spurs  to  his 
charger,  and  would  have  got  away  had  not 
Dalroy  delivered  a  most  satisfactory  lunge  with 
the  hussar  sabre. 

No  sooner  had  Bates  collected  and  counted 
sixteen  people  than  the  tactics  were  changed. 
Five  rounds  rapid  rattled  up  the  road  and  along 
the  banks. 

"I  find  that  a  bit  of  noise  always  helps  after 
we  get  the  windup  with  the  bayonet,  sir,"  he 
explained  to  Dalroy.  "If  any  of  'em  think  of 
stopping  they  move  on  again  when  they  hear  a 
hefty  row." 

A  Belgian  picket,  guarding  the  ferry,  and, 
what  was  of  vast  importance  to  the  fugitives, 
the  ferry-boat,  wondered,  no  doubt,  what  was 
causing  such  a  commotion  among  the  enemy. 
Luckily,  the  officer  in  charge  recognised  a  new 
ring  in  the  rifles.  He  could  not  identify  it,  but 
was  certain  it  came  from  neither  a  Belgian  nor 
a  German  weapon. 

Thus,  in  a  sense,  he  was  prepared  for  Jan 
Maertz's  hail,  and  was  even  more  reassured  by 
Irene's  clear  voice  urging  him  to  send  the  boat. 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER     253 

Two  volunteers  manned  the  oars.  In  a  couple 
of  minutes  the  unwieldy  craft  bumped  into  a 
pontoon,  and  was  soon  crowded  with  pas- 
sengers. Never  was  sweeter  music  in  the  ears 
of  a  little  company  of  Britons  than  the  placid 
lap  of  the  current,  followed  by  the  sharp  chal- 
lenge of  a  sentry:  "Qui  va  Id?" 

"A  party  of  English  soldiers,  a  Belgian,  and 
an  English  lady,"  answered  Dalroy. 

An  officer  hurried  forward.  He  dared  not 
use  a  light,  and,  in  the  semi-obscurity  of  the 
river  bank,  found  himself  confronted  by  a 
sinister-looking  crew.  He  was  cautious,  and 
exceedingly  sceptical  when  told  briefly  the  ex- 
act truth.  His  demand  that  all  arms  and  am- 
munition should  be  surrendered  before  he 
would  agree  to  send  them  under  escort  to  the 
village  of  Aspen  was  met  by  a  blank  refusal 
from  Bates  and  his  myrmidons.  Dalroy  toned 
down  this  cartel  into  a  graceful  plea  that  thir- 
teen soldiers,  belonging  to  eight  different  regi- 
ments of  the  British  army,  ought  not  to  be  dis- 
armed by  their  gallant  Belgian  allies,  after  hav- 
ing fought  all  the  way  from  Mons  to  the 
Schelde. 

Irene  joined  in,  but  Jan  Maertz's  rugged 
speech  probably  carried  greater  conviction. 
After  a  prolonged  argument,  which  the  infuri- 
ated Germans  might  easily  have  interrupted  by 
close-range  volleys,  the  difficulty  was  adjusted 
by  the  unfixing  of  bayonets  and  the  slinging  of 
rifles.  A  strong  guard  took  them  to  Aspen, 


254  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

where  they  arrived  about  eleven  o'clock.  They 
were  marshalled  in  the  kitchen  of  a  comforta- 
ble inn,  and  interviewed  by  a  colonel  and  a 
major. 

Oddly  enough,  Corporal  Bates  was  the  first 
to  gain  credence  by  producing  his  map,  and 
describing  the  villages  he  and  his  mates  had 
passed  through,  the  woods  in  which  they  hid 
for  days  together,  and  the  cures  who  had  helped 
them.  Bates 's  story  was  an  epic  in  itself.  His 
men  crowded  around,  and  grinned  approvingly 
when  he  rounded  off  each  curt  account  of  a 
11  scrap"  by  saying,  "Then  the  Yewlans  did  a 
bunk,  an'  we  pushed  on." 

Dalroy,  acting  as  interpreter,  happened  to 
glance  at  the  circle  of  cheerful  faces  during  a 
burst  of  merriment  aroused  by  a  reference  to 
Smithy's  ingenuity  in  stealing  a  box  of  hand 
grenades  from  an  ammunition  wagon,  and 
destroying  a  General's  motor-car  by  fixing  an 
infernal  machine  in  the  gear-box.  The  mere 
cranking-up  of  the  engine,  it  appeared,  exploded 
the  detonator. 

"Is  that  what  you  were  doing  under  the  car 
outside  the  barn?"  he  inquired,  catching 
Smithy's  eye. 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  on'y  one  left  aht  o'  six," 
said  Smithy,  producing  an  ominous-looking 
object  from  a  pocket. 

"Is  the  detonator  in  position?" 

"Yus,  sir," 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  255 

' 'Will  you  kindly  take  it  out,  and  lay  it 
gently  on  the  table!" 

Smithy  obeyed,  with  reassuring  deftness. 

Dalroy  was  about  to  comment  on  the  phe- 
nomenal risk  of  carrying  such  a  destructive 
bomb  so  carelessly  when  he  happened  to  no- 
tice the  roll  collar  of  a  khaki  tunic  beneath 
Smithy's  blue  linen  blouse. 

"Have  you  still  retained  part  of  your  uni- 
form?" he  inquired. 

"Oh,  yus,  sir.  We  all  'ave.  We  weren't 
goin'  to  strip  fer  fear  of  any  bally  Germans — 
beg  pawdon,  miss — an'  if  it  kime  to  a  reel 
show-dahn  we  meant  ter  see  it  through  in  reg- 
gelation  kit." 

Every  man  of  twelve  had  retained  his  tunic, 
trousers,  and  puttees,  which  were  completely 
covered  by  the  loose-fitting  garments  supplied 
by  the  priest  of  a  hamlet  near  Louvignies,  who 
concealed  them  in  a  loft  during  four  days  until 
the  mass  of  German  troops  had  surged  over 
the  French  frontier.  The  thirteenth,  a 
Highlander,  actually  wore  his  kilt! 

The  Belgian  officers  grew  enthused.  They 
insisted  on  providing  a  vin  d'honneur,  which 
Irene  escaped  by  pleading  utter  fatigue,  and 
retiring  to  rest. 

Dalroy  opened  his  eyes  next  morning  on  a 
bright  and  sunlit  world.  It  might  reasonably 
be  expected  that  his  thoughts  would  dwell  on 
the  astounding  incidents  of  the  past  month. 
They  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  tumbled  out 


256  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

of  a  comfortable  bed,  interviewed  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  "Trois  Couronnes,"  and  asked 
that  worthy  man  if  he  understood  the  signifi- 
cance of  a  Bank  of  England  five-pound  note. 
During  his  many  and  varied  'scapes,  Dalroy's 
store  of  money,  carried  in  an  inner  pocket  of 
his  waistcoat,  had  never  been  touched.  Mon- 
sieur le  Patron  knew  all  that  was  necessary 
about  five-pound  notes.  Very  quickly  a  ser- 
viceable cloth  suit,  a  pair  of  boots,  some  clean 
linen,  a  tin  bath,  and  a  razor  were  staged  in 
the  bedroom,  while  the  proprietor's  wife  was 
instructed  to  attend  to  mademoiselle's  re- 
quirements. 

Dalroy  was  shaving,  for  the  first  time  in 
thirty-three  days,  when  voices  reached  him 
through  the  open  window.  He  listened. 

Smithy  had  cornered  Shiney  Black  in  the 
hotel  yard,  and,  in  his  own  phrase,  was  puttin' 
'im  through  the  'oop. 

"You  don't  know  it,  Shiney,  but  you're 
reely  a  verdamd  Henglishman, "  he  said,  with 
an  accurate  reproduction  of  Von  Halwig's 
manner  if  not  his  accent.  "The  grite  German 
nytion  is  abart  ter  roll  yer  in  the  mud,  an' 
wipe  its  big  feet  on  yer  tummy.  You've 
awsked  fer  it  long  enough,  an'  nah  yer  goin' 
ter  git  it  in  the  neck.  Blood  an'  sausage! 
The  cheek  o'  a  silly  little  josser  like  you  tellin' 
the  Lord-'Igh-Cock-a-doodle-doo  that  'e  can't 
boss  everybody  as  'e  dam  well  likes!  Shiney, 
you're  done  in!  The  Keyser  sez  so,  an'  'e 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  257 

ought  ter  know.  W'y?  That  shows  yer  misera- 
ble hignorance!  The  Keyser  sez  so,  I  tell  yer, 
so  none  o'  yer  lip,  or  I,  Von  Schmit,  o'  the 
Dirty  'Alf-Hundredth,  will  biff  you  on  the 
boko.  But  no !  I  must  keep  me  'air  on.  As  you 
an'  hevery  hother  verdamd  Henglishman  will 
be  snuffed  aht  before  closin'-time,  I  shall  gra- 
shiously  tell  thee  wot's  wot  an*  'oo's  'oo. 
Germany,  the  friend  o'  peace — no,  you  blighter, 
not  Chawlie  Peace,  the  burglar,  but  the  lydy 
in  a  nightie,  wiv  a  dove  in  one  'and  an'  a 
holive-branch  in  the  other — Germany  will  wide 
knee-deep  in  Belgian  an'  French  ber-lud  so  as 
to  'and  you  the  double  Nelson.  By  land  an' 
sea  an'  pawcels  post  she'll  rine  fire  an'  brim- 
stone on  your  pore  thick  'ead.  What  'ave  you 
done,  you'd  like  ter  know?  Wot  'aven't  you 
done?  Aren't  you  alive?  Wot  crime  can  ekal 
that  when  the  Keyser  said,  'Puff!  aht — tallow- 
candle!'  Ach,  pig-dorg,  I  shpit  on  yer!" 

"You  go  an'  wash  yer  fice  once  more, 
Smithy,"  said  Shiney,  forcing  a  word  in  edge- 
ways. "It'll  improve  your  looks,  per'aps.  I 
dunno." 

"That's  done  it,"  yelped  Smithy,  warming 
to  his  theme.  "That's  just  yer  narsty,  scoffin' 
British  w'y  o'  speakin'  to  quiet,  respectable 
Germans.  That's  wot  gets  us  mad.  I'm  sur- 
prised at  yer,  Shiney!  Yer  hattitude  brings 
tears  to  me  heyes.  Time  an'  agine  you've 
'card  ahr  bee-utiful  langwidge " 

"I  'ave,  indeed,"  interrupted  Shiney.    "But 


258  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

none  o'  it  'ere,  me  lad.  There's  a  reel  born 
lydy  in  one  o'  them  bedrooms." 

"I'm  not  torkin'  o'  the  kind  of  tosh  you 
hunderstand,"  retorted  Smithy.  "I'm  alludin' 
to  the  sweet-sahndin'  langwidge  o'  our  con- 
querors. You've  'card  it  hoffen  enuf  from  the 
sorft  mowves  o'  Yewlans.  On'y  larst  night 
you  'card  it  spoke  by  that  stawr  hactor,  Von 
'Allwig,  of  the  Potsdam  Busters.  Yet  you  can 
git  nothink  orf  yer  chest  but  a  low-dahn  cock- 
ney wheeze  w'en  a  benefactor's  givin'  yer  the 
strite  tip.  Pore  Shiney!  Ye  think  yer  goin' 
back  to  Hengland,  'ome,  an'  beauty — to  the 
barrick-square,  bully-beef  an'  booze,  an'  plenty 
o'  it.  Dontcher  believe  it!  Wot  you're  in  fer 
is  a  dose  o'  German  Kultur.  Wen  yer  ship's 
been  torpedoed  fourteen  times  between  Hos- 
tend  an'  Dover,  w'en  yer  sarth-eastern  trine 
'as  bumped  inter  a  biker's  dozen  o'  different 
sorts  o'  mines,  w'en  you're  Zepped  the  minnit 
you  crorse  the  Strend  to  the  nearest  pub,  you  '11 
begin  ter  twig  wot  the  Hemperor  of  All  the 
'Uns  is  ackshally  a-doin'  of.  It's  hall  hup  wiv 
yer,  Shiney!  You've  ether  got  ter  lie  dahn 
an'  doi,  er  learn  German.  Nah,  w'ich  is  it  ter 
be  f  Go  west  wiv  yer  benighted  country,  or  go 
nap  on  the  KeyserT' 

"Torking  o'  pubs  reminds  me,"  yawned 
Shiney.  "I  couldn't  get  any  forrarder  on  that 
ginger-pop  the  Belgian  horficers  gev  us.  In 
one  o'  them  Yewlans'  pawket-books  there  was 
five  French  quid.  Wot  abart  a  bottle  o'  beer?" 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  259 

4 'What  abart  it!"  agreed  Smithy  instantly. 

The  soap  was  drying  on  Dalroy's  face,  but 
he  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window  to  look 
at  two  of  Britain's  first  line  swaggering 
through  the  gateway  of  the  inn,  and  whistling, 
"It's  a  long,  long  way  to  Tipperary."  Smith 
and  Shiney  were  true  types  of  the  somewhat 
cynical  but  ever  ready-witted  and  laughter- 
loving  Londoner,  who  makes  such  a  first-rate 
fighting  man.  They  were  just  a  couple  of  ordi- 
nary "Tommies."  The  deadly  fury  of  Mons, 
the  daily  and  nightly  peril  of  the  march 
through  a  land  stricken  by  a  brutal  enemy,  the 
score  of  little  battles  which  they  had  conducted 
with  an  amazing  skill  and  hardihood — these 
phases  of  immortality  troubled  them  not  at  all. 
An  eye-rolling  and  sabre-rattling  emperor 
might  rock  the  social  foundations  of  half  the 
world,  his  braggart  henchmen  destroy  that 
which  they  could  never  rebuild,  his  frantic  gang 
of  poets  and  professors  indite  Hymns  of  Hate 
and  blasphemous  catch-words  like  "Gott  strafe 
England";  but  the  Smithies  and  Shinies  of  the 
British  army  would  never  fail  to  cock  a  hu- 
morous eye  at  the  vapourers,  and  say  sarcas- 
tically, "Well,  an'  wot  abart  it?" 

Somehow,  on  7th  September  1914,  there  was 
a  hitch  in  the  naval  programme  devised  by  the 
Deutscher  Marineamt.  The  Belgian  packet- 
boat,  Princess  Clementine,  steamed  from  Os- 
tend  to  Dover  through  a  smiling  sea  unvexed 


260  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

by  Krupp  or  any  other  form  of  Kultur.  War- 
ships, big  and  little,  were  there  in  squadrons; 
but  gaunt  super-Dreadnought  and  perky  de- 
stroyer alike  was  aggressively  British. 

England,  too,  looked  strangely  unperturbed. 
There  had  been  sad  scenes  on  the  quay  at  the 
Belgian  port,  but  a  policeman  on  duty  at  the 
shore  end  of  the  gangway  at  Dover  seemed  to 
indicate  by  a  majestic  calm  that  any  person 
causing  an  uproar  would  be  given  the  alter- 
native of  paying  ten  shillings  and  costs  or 
"doing"  seven  days. 

The  boat  was  crowded  with  refugees;  but 
Dalroy,  knowing  the  wiliness  of  stewards,  had 
experienced  slight  difficulty  in  securing  two 
chairs  already  loaded  with  portmanteaus  and 
wraps.  He  heard  then,  for  the  first  time,  why 
Irene  fled  so  precipitately  from  Berlin.  She 
was  a  guest  in  the  house  of  a  Minister  of  State, 
and  one  of  the  Hohenzollern  princelings  came 
there  to  luncheon  on  that  fateful  Monday, 
3rd  August. 

He  had  invited  himself,  though  he  must  have 
been  aware  that  his  presence  was  an  insult  and 
an  annoyance  to  the  English  girl,  whom  he  had 
pestered  with  his  attentions  many  times  al- 
ready. He  was  excited,  drank  heavily,  and 
talked  much.  Irene  had  arranged  to  travel 
home  next  day,  but  the  wholly  unforeseen  and 
swift  developments  in  international  affairs,  no 
less  than  the  thinly-veiled  threats  of  a  royal 
admirer,  alarmed  her  into  an  immediate  de- 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  261 

parture.  At  the  twelfth  hour  she  found  that 
her  host,  father  of  two  girls  of  her  own  age — 
the  school  friends,  in  fact,  to  whom  she  was 
returning  a  visit — was  actually  in  league  with 
her  persecutor  to  keep  her  in  Berlin. 

She  ran  in  panic,  her  one  thought  being  to 
join  her  sister  in  Brussels,  and  reach  home. 

"So  you  see,  dear,"  she  said,  with  one  of 
those  delightfully  shy  glances  which  Dalroy 
loved  to  provoke,  "I  was  quite  as  much  sought 
after  as  you,  and  I  would  certainly  have  been 
stopped  on  the  Dutch  frontier  had  I  travelled 
by  any  other  train." 

The  two  were  packed  into  a  carriage  filled  to 
excess.  They  had  no  luggage  other  than  a 
small  parcel  apiece,  containing  certain  articles 
of  clothing  which  might  fetch  sixpence  in  a  rag- 
shop,  but  were  of  great  and  lasting  value  to  the 
present  owners. 

At  Charing  Cross,  while  they  were  walking 
side  by  side  down  the  platform,  Irene  shrieked, 
"There  they  are!"  She  darted  forward  and 
flung  herself  into  the  arms  of  two  elderly  peo- 
ple, a  brother  in  khaki,  with  the  badges  of  a 
Guard  regiment,  and  a  sister  of  the  flapper 
order. 

Dalroy  had  been  told  at  Dover  to  report  at 
once  to  the  War  Office,  as  he  carried  much 
valuable  information  in  his  head  and  Von  Hal- 
wig's  well-filled  note-book  in  his  pocket.  He 
hung  back  while  the  embracing  was  in  progress. 
Then  Irene  introduced  him  to  her  family. 


262  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

"You'll  dine  with  us,  Arthur,"  she  said 
simply.  "I'll  not  tell  them  a  word  of  our  ad- 
ventures till  you  are  present." 

"You  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop,"  was  the 
excited  comment  of  the  flapper  sister  when  en- 
deavouring subsequently  to  thrill  another  girl 
with  the  sensation  created  by  Irene's  quiet 
words.  Literally,  this  trope  was  not  accurate, 
because  the  station  was  noisier  than  usual. 
Figuratively,  it  met  the  case  exactly. 

Lady  Glastonbury,  a  gray-haired  woman 
with  wise  eyes,  promptly  emulated  the  action 
of  the  British  army  during  the  retreat  from 
Mons,  and  "saved  the  situation." 

"Of  course  you'll  stay  with  us,  too,  Captain 
Dalroy,"  she  said  with  pleasant  insistence. 
"Like  Irene,  you  must  have  lost  everything, 
and  need  time  to  refit." 

Dalroy  murmured  some  platitude,  lifted 
his  hat,  and  only  regained  his  composure 
after  two  narrow  escapes  from  being  run 
over  by  taxis  while  crossing  Northumberland 
Avenue. 

A  newsboy  tore  past,  shouting  in  the  ver- 
nacular, "Great  Stand  by  Sir  John  French." 

Dalroy  was  reminded  of  Smithy,  and  Shiney, 
and  Corporal  Bates.  He  saw  again  Jan  Maertz 
waving  a  farewell  from  the  quai  at  Ostend. 
He  wondered  how  old  Joos  was  faring,  and 
Leontine,  and  Monsieur  Pochard,  and  the  cure 
of  Verviers. 

Another  boy  scampered  by.     He  carried  a 


THE  MARNE— AND  AFTER  263 

contents  bill.  Heavy  black  type  announced 
that  the  British  were  "holding"  Von  Kluck 
on  the  Marne.  Dalroy's  eyes  kindled.  His 
work  lay  there.  When  the  soldier's  task  was 
ended  he  would  come  back  to  Irene. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"CABBY  ON!" 

AFTEB  a  few  delightful  days  in  London,  Dal- 
roy  walked  down  Whitehall  one  fine  morning  to 
call  at  the  War  Office  for  orders.  Irene  went 
with  him.  He  expected  to  be  packed  off  to 
France  that  very  evening,  so  the  two  meant 
making  the  utmost  of  the  fast-speeding  hours. 
The  Intelligence  Department  had  assimilated 
all  the  information  Dalroy  could  give,  had 
found  it  good,  and  had  complimented  him.  As 
a  Bengal  Lancer,  whose  regiment  was  pre- 
sumably in  India,  he  would  probably  be  at- 
tached to  some  cavalry  unit  of  the  Expedition- 
ary Force;  from  being  an  hunted  outlaw,  with 
a  price  on  his  head,  he  would  be  quietly  ab- 
sorbed by  the  military  machine.  Very  smart 
he  looked  in  his  khaki  and  brown  leather; 
Irene,  who  one  short  week  earlier  deemed 
sabots  en  cuir  the  height  of  luxury,  was  dressed 
de  rigueur  for  luncheon  at  the  Savoy. 

Many  eyes  followed  them  as  they  crossed 
Trafalgar  Square  and  dodged  the  traffic  flow- 
ing around  the  base  of  King  Charles's  statue. 
An  alert  recruiting-sergeant,  clinching  the 
argument,  pointed  out  the  tall,  well-groomed 
officer  to  a  lanky  youth  whose  soul  was  almost 
afire  with  martial  decision. 

264 


CARRY  ON!"  265 


"There  y'are,"  he  said,  with  emphatic 
thumb-jerk,  "that's  wot  the  British  army  will 
make  of  you  in  a  couple  of  months.  An'  just 
twig  the  sort  o'  girl  you  can  sort  out  of  the 
bunch.  Cock  yer  eye  at  that,  will  you?" 

Thus,  all  unconsciously,  Irene  started  the 
great  adventure  for  one  of  Kitchener's  first 
half-million. 

She  was  not  kept  waiting  many  minutes  in 
an  ante-room.  Dalroy  reappeared,  smiling 
mysteriously,  yet,  as  Irene  quickly  saw,  not 
quite  so  content  with  life  as  when  he  entered 
those  magic  portals,  wherein  a  man  wrestles 
with  an  algebraical  formula  before  he  finds  the 
department  he  wants. 

"Well,"  she  inquired,  "having  picked  your 
brains,  are  they  going  to  court-martial  you  for 
being  absent  without  leave?" 

"I  cross  to-night,"  he  said,  leading  her  to- 
ward the  Horse  Guards'  Parade.  "It's  Bel- 
gium, not  France.  I'm  on  the  staff.  My  ap- 
pointment will  appear  in  the  gazette  to- 
morrow. That's  fine,  but  I'd  rather " 

Irene  stopped,  almost  in  the  middle  of  the 
road. 

"And  you'll  wear  a  cap  with  a  red  band  and 
a  golden  lion,  and  those  ducky  little  red  tabs 
on  the  collar !  Come  at  once,  and  buy  them !  I 
refuse  to  lunch  with  you  otherwise." 

' '  A  man  must  not  wear  the  staff  insignia  un- 
til he  is  gazetted,"  he  reminded  her. 

"Oh!"     She  was  pathetically  disappointed. 


266  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

1  *  But,  in  my  case, ' '  he  went  on,  * '  I  am  specif- 
ically ordered  to  travel  in  staff  uniform,  so,  as 
I  leave  London  at  seven  o'clock " 

"You  can  certainly  lunch  in  all  your  glory," 
she  vowed.  '  *  There 's  an  empty  taxi ! ' ' 

Of  course,  it  was  pleasant  to  be  on  the  staff, 
and  thus  become  even  more  admired  by  Irene, 
if  there  is  a  degree  surpassing  that  which  is 
already  superlative ;  but  the  fly  in  the  ointment 
of  Dalroy's  new  career  lay  in  the  fact  that  the 
battle  of  the  Aisne  was  just  beginning,  and 
every  British  heart  throbbed  with  the  hope 
that  the  Teuton  hordes  might  be  chased  back 
to  the  frontier  as  speedily  as  they  had  rushed 
on  Paris.  Dalroy  himself,  an  experienced  sol- 
dier, though  he  had  watched  those  grim  col- 
umns pouring  through  the  valley  of  the  Meuse, 
yielded  momentarily  to  the  vision  splendid. 
He  longed  to  be  there,  taking  part  in  the  drive. 
Instead,  he  was  being  sent  to  Belgium,  some 
shrewd  head  in  the  War  Office  having  de- 
cided that  his  linguistic  powers,  joined  to  a 
recent  first-hand  knowledge  of  local  condi- 
tions, would  be  far  more  profitably  employed 
in  Flanders  than  as  a  squadron  leader  in 
France. 

Thus,  when  that  day  of  mellow  autumn  had 
sped  all  too  swiftly,  and  he  had  said  his  last 
good-bye  to  Irene,  it  was  to  Dover  he  went, 
being  ferried  thence  to  Ostend  in  a  destroyer. 

In  those  early  weeks  of  the  war  all  England 
was  agog  with  the  belief  that  Antwerp  would 


CARRY  ON!"  267 


prove  a  rankling  thorn  in  the  ribs  of  the  Ger- 
mans, while  men  in  high  places  cherished  the 
delusion  that  a  flank  attack  was  possible  along 
the  Ostend-Bruges-Brussels  line. 

But  Dalroy  was  an  eminently  sane  person. 
Two  hours  of  clear  thinking  in  the  train  re- 
established his  poise.  When  the  Lieutenant- 
Commander  in  charge  of  the  destroyer  took  him 
below  in  mid-Channel  for  a  smoke  and  a  drink, 
and  the  talk  turned  on  strategy,  the  soldier 
dispelled  an  alluring  mirage  with  a  breath  of 
common  sense. 

4 'The  scheme  is  nothing  short  of  rank 
lunacy, "  he  said.  "We  haven't  the  men, 
France  can  spare  none  of  hers,  and  Belgium 
must  be  crushed  when  the  big  battalions  meet. 
Germany  has  at  least  three  millions  in  the  field 
already.  Paris  has  been  saved  by  a  miracle. 
By  some  other  miracle  we  may  check  the  on- 
rush in  France,  but,  if  we  start  dividing  our 
forces,  even  Heaven  won't  help  us." 

"Surely  you'll  admit  that  we  should 
strengthen  the  defence  of  Antwerp?"  argued 
the  sailor. 

"I  think  it  impracticable.  Liege  only  held 
out  until  the  new  siege  howitzers  arrived. 
Namur  fell  at  once.  Why  should  we  expect 
Antwerp  to  be  impregnable?" 

The  navy  deemed  the  army  pessimistic,  but, 
exactly  a  month  later,  the  Lieutenant-Com- 
mander remembered  that  conversation,  and  re- 
marked to  a  friend  that  about  the  middle  of 


268  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

September  he  took  to  Ostend  "a  chap  on  the 
Staff  who  seemed  to  know  a  bit." 

It  is  now  a  matter  of  historical  fact  when 
Von  Kluck  and  Sir  John  French  began  their 
famous  race  to  the  north,  the  Belgian  army 
only  escaped  from  Antwerp  by  the  skin  of  its 
teeth.  The  city  itself  was  occupied  by  the  Ger- 
mans on  October  9th,  Bruges  was  entered  on 
the  13th,  Von  Bessler's  army  reached  the  coast 
on  the  15th,  and  the  British  and  Belgians  were 
attacked  on  the  line  of  the  Yser  next  day. 

Thus,  fate  decreed  that  Dalroy  should  wit- 
ness the  beginning  and  the  end  of  Germany's 
shameless  outrage  on  a  peaceful  and  peace- 
loving  country.  On  August  2nd,  1914,  King 
Albert  ruled  over  the  most  prosperous  and  con- 
tented small  kingdom  in  Europe.  Within  eleven 
weeks  he  had  become,  as  Emile  Cammaerts 
finely  puts  it,  "lord  of  a  hundred  fields  and  a 
few  spires." 

Though  Dalroy  should  live  far  beyond  the  al- 
loted  span  of  man's  life,  he  will  never  forget  the 
strain,  the  misery,  the  sheer  hopelessness  of 
the  second  month  he  spent  in  Belgium.  The 
climax  came  when  he  found  himself  literally 
overwhelmed  by  the  host  of  refugees,  wounded 
men,  and  scattered  military  units  which  sought 
succour  in,  and,  as  the  iron  ring  of  Kultur  drew 
close,  transport  from  Ostend. 

With  the  retreat  of  the  Belgian  army  towards 
Dunkirk,  and  the  return  to  England  of  such 
portion  of  the  ill-fated  Naval  Division  as  was 


CARRY  ON!"  269 


not  interned  in  Holland,  his  military  duties 
ceased.  In  his  own  and  the  country's  interests 
he  ought  to  have  made  certain  of  a  berth  on 
the  last  passenger  steamer  to  leave  Ostend  for 
England.  He,  at  least,  could  have  done  so, 
though  there  were  sixty  thousand  frenzied 
people  crowding  the  quays,  and  hundreds,  if  not 
thousands,  of  comparatively  wealthy  men  of- 
fering fabulous  sums  for  the  use  of  any  type  of 
vessel  which  would  take  them  and  their  families 
to  safety. 

But,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  Dalroy  heard  that 
a  British  Red  Cross  Hospital  party,  which  had 
extricated  itself  from  the  clutch  of  the  mailed 
fist,  was  even  then  en  route  from  Bruges  to  Os- 
tend by  way  of  Zeebrugge.  Knowing  they 
would  be  in  dire  need  of  help,  he  resolved  to 
stay,  though  his  action  was  quixotic,  since  no 
mercy  would  be  shown  him  if  he  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Germans.  He  took  one  precau- 
tion, therefore.  Some  service  rendered  to  a 
tradesman  had  enabled  him  to  buy  a  reliable 
and  speedy  motor  bicycle,  on  which,  as  a  last 
resource,  he  might  scurry  to  Dunkirk.  His  field 
service  baggage  was  reposing  in  a  small  hotel 
near  the  harbour.  For  all  he  can  tell,  it  is  re- 
posing there  yet;  he  never  saw  it  again  after 
he  leaped  into  the  saddle  of  the  Ariel,  and  sped 
through  the  cobbled  streets  which  led  to  the 
north  road  along  the  coast.  The  hour  was  then 
about  six  o  'clock  on  the  evening  of  October  13th. 

A  Belgian  staff  officer  had  assured  him  that 

I   ' 


270  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

the  Germans  could  not  possibly  occupy  Ostend 
until  late  next  day.  The  Belgian  army,  though 
hopelessly  outnumbered,  had  never  been  either 
disorganised  nor  outmanoeuvred.  The  retreat 
to  the  Yser,  if  swift,  was  orderly,  and  the  rear- 
guard could  be  trusted  to  follow  its  time-table. 

Hence,  before  it  was  dark,  Dalroy  determined 
to  cover  the  sixteen  miles  to  Zeebrugge.  The 
Hospital,  which  was  convoying  British  and  Bel- 
gian wounded,  would  travel  thence  by  the 
quaint  steam-tramway  which  links  up  the  towns 
on  the  littoral.  It  might  experience  almost  in- 
superable difficulties  at  Zeebrugge  or  Ostend, 
and  he  was  one  of  the  few  aware  of  the  actual 
time-limit  at  disposal,  while  a  field  hospital 
bereft  of  transport  is  a  peculiarly  impotent  or- 
ganisation. 

Road  and  rail  ran  almost  parallel  among 
the  sand  dunes.  At  various  crossings  he  could 
ascertain  whether  or  not  any  train  had  passed 
recently  in  the  direction  of  Ostend,  thus  making 
assurance  doubly  sure,  though  the  station- 
master  at  the  town  terminus  was  positive  that 
the  next  tram  would  not  arrive  until  half -past 
seven.  Dalroy  meant  intercepting  that  tram  at 
Blankenberge. 

Naturally,  the  train  was  late  in  reaching  the 
latter  place,  but  the  only  practicable  course  was 
to  wait  there,  rather  than  risk  missing  it.  A 
crowd  of  terrified  people  gathered  around  the 
calm-eyed,  quiet-mannered  Briton,  and  ap- 
pealed for  advice.  Poor  creatures!  they  im- 


CARRY  ON!"  271 


posed  a  cruel  dilemma.  On  the  one  hand,  it  was 
monstrous  to  send  a  whole  community  flying 
for  their  lives  along  the  Ostend  road;  on  the 
other,  he  had  witnessed  the  fate  of  Vise  and 
Huy.  Yet,  by  remaining  in  their  homes,  they 
had  some  prospect  of  life  and  ultimate  liberty, 
while  their  lot  would  be  far  worse  the  instant 
they  were  plunged  into  the  panic  and  miseries 
of  Ostend.  So  he  comforted  the  unhappy  folk 
as  best  he  might,  though  his  heart  was  wrung 
with  pity  at  sight  of  the  common  faith  in  the 
Red  Cross  brassard.  Men,  women,  and  children 
wore  the  badge  indiscriminately.  They  re- 
garded it  as  a  shield  against  the  Uhlan 's  lance ! 
Most  fortunately  for  that  strip  of  Belgium,  the 
policy  of  "frightfulness"  was  moderated  once 
the  country  was  overrun.  So  far  as  local  oc- 
currences have  been  permitted  to  become 
known,  the  coast  towns  have  been  spared  the 
fate  of  those  in  the  interior. 

To  Dalroy's  great  relief,  the  incoming  tram 
from  Zeebrugge  brought  the  British  hospital. 
There  were  four  doctors,  eight  nurses,  and 
fifty-three  wounded  men,  including  a  sergeant 
and  ten  privates  of  the  Gordon  Highlanders, 
who,  like  Bates,  Smithie,  and  the  rest,  had 
scrambled  across  Belgium  after  Mons. 

The  train  offered  an  extraordinary  spectacle. 
Soldiers  and  civilians  were  packed  in  it  and 
on  it.  Men  and  women  sat  precariously  on  the 
roofs  of  the  ramshackle  carriages,  stood  on  the 
buffers  and  couplings,  or  clung  to  door-handles. 


272  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Not  even  foothold  was  to  be  had  for  love  or 
money  on  that  train  at  Blankenberge. 

Dalroy,  who  dared  not  let  go  his  machine, 
contrived  to  get  a  word  with  the  Medical  Of- 
ficer in  charge. 

As  ever,  the  Briton  made  light  of  past 
troubles. 

' '  We  Ve  had  the  time  of  our  lives ! ' '  was  the 
cheery  comment.  "  After  Mons  we  were  left 
in  a  field  hospital  with  a  mixed  crowd  of  Brit- 
ish, French,  and  Germans.  Of  course,  we 
looked  after  all  alike,  and  that  saved  our 
bacon,  because  even  a  German  general  had  to 
try  and  behave  decently  when  he  found  a  thou- 
sand of  his  own  men  in  our  care.  So  he  sent 
us  to  Brussels  with  a  safe  conduct,  and  from 
Brussels  we  were  allowed  to  make  for  Ostend 
— had  to  leg  it,  though,  the  last  twenty  miles 
to  the  Belgian  outposts.  Then  we  refitted,  and 
started  for  Bruges,  where  we've  been  at  work 
in  a  convent  for  five  weeks.  The  remnant  of 
the  Belgian  army  passed  through  Bruges  yes- 
terday and  the  day  before,  so  we  cleared  out 
all  possible  cases,  and  started  away  with  the 
crocks  early  this  morning.  At  the  last  minute 
we  were  hustled  a  bit  by  a  Taube  dropping 
bombs  on  the  station.  One  bomb  took 
from  us  a  van-load  of  kit.  We  haven't  a 
thing  except  the  stretchers  and  what  we're 
wearing. ' ' 

"I'll  ride  on  now,  and  meet  you  at  Ostend," 
said  Dalroy.  He  had  not  the  heart  to  damp  the 


: CARRY  ON!"  273 


spirits  of  the  party  by  telling  of  the  chaos 
awaiting  them.  Sufficient  for  the  next  hour 
would  be  the  evil  thereof. 

"I  say,  it's  awfully  good  of  you  to  take  all 
this  trouble,"  said  the  doctor. 

"I've  lost  my  job  with  the  departure  of  our 
troops,  so  I  had  to  find  something  to  do," 
smiled  the  other. 

A  fleet  of  Belgian  armoured  cars  cleared  a 
road  through  the  stream  of  fugitives,  and  Dal- 
roy  kept  close  in  rear,  so  he  made  a  fast  return 
journey.  Dashing  past  the  town  station,  near 
which  the  steam-tram  would  disgorge  its 
freight,  he  headed  straight  for  the  Gare  Mari- 
time. It  was  now  dusk,  but  he  saw  at  once 
that  the  crowd  besieging  the  entrance  was 
denser  and  more  frantic  than  ever,  though  the 
last  steamer  whose  departure  was  announced 
officially  had  left  early  in  the  day. 

He  ascertained  from  a  helpless  policeman 
that  the  rumour  had  gone  round  of  a  vessel 
coming  in;  the  sullen,  apathetic  multitude, 
waiting  there  for  it  knew  not  what  chance  of 
rescue,  had  suddenly  become  dangerous. 

*  *  The  American  Consul,  who  has  worked  hard 
all  day,  has  had  to  give  it  up,"  added  the  man. 
"He  is  closing  his  office." 

Just  then  a  harbour  official,  minus  his  cap, 
and  with  coat  badly  torn  during  a  violent  pas- 
sage through  the  mob,  strode  by,  breathless  but 
hurried. 

Dalroy  recognised  him,   having  had  much 


274  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

business  with  the  port  authorities  during  the 
preceding  week. 

"Is  it  true  that  a  steamer  is  in  sight?"  he 
asked. 

"Monsieur,  what  am  I  to  say!"  and  the  ac- 
companying gesture  was  eloquent.  "It  is  only 
a  little  cargo  boat,  an  English  coaster.  If  she 
nears  the  quay  there  will  be  a  riot,  and  perhaps 
thousands  of  lives  lost.  The  harbour-master 
has  sent  me  to  ask  the  mayor  if  he  should  not 
signal  her  to  anchor  outside  until  daylight." 

Prompt  decision  and  steadfast  action  were 
Dalroy's  chief  qualities.  If  luck  favoured  him 
he  might  set  his  own  project  on  foot  before  the 
mayor's  messenger  burked  it  by  a  civic  order. 
He  thanked  the  man  and  rode  off. 

Happily  the  tram  came  from  Blankenberge 
without  undue  delay.  He  had  only  dismounted 
when  the  engine  clanked  into  the  station  square. 
Already  his  soldier's  eye  had  noted  that  the 
Gordons  and  some  of  the  Belgian  soldiers  had 
retained  their  rifles  and  bayonets. 

"Get  your  crowd  into  motion  at  once,"  he 
said  to  the  doctor,  as  soon  as  the  latter  alighted. 
"Nothing  you  have  gone  through  during  the 
last  two  months  will  equal  the  excitement  of 
the  next  quarter  of  an  hour.  But,  if  your  crip- 
ples can  fix  bayonets  and  show  a  bold  front,  we 
have  a  fighting  chance — no  more.  And  unless 
we  leave  Ostend  before  to-morrow  morning  it'll 
be  a  German  prison  for  you  and  a  firing  party 
for  me." 


CARRY  ON!"  275 


Men  who  have  smelt  war  and  death,  not  once 
but  many  times,  do  not  hesitate  and  argue 
when  a  staff  officer  talks  in  that  strain. 

With  an  almost  marvellous  rapidity  the  mem- 
bers of  the  mission  and  the  wounded  able  to 
walk  were  formed  up,  stretchers  were  lifted, 
and  the  march  began.  Dalroy  and  the  doctor 
headed  the  procession  with  the  Gordons,  and 
the  mere  appearance  of  a  Highlander  enforces 
awe  in  any  part  of  Europe. 

Dalroy  explained  matters  as  they  went,  and 
impressed  on  the  escort  the  absolute  necessity 
of  showing  a  determined  front.  On  nearing 
the  packed  mass  of  people  clamouring  outside 
the  Gare  Maritime  he  vociferated  some  sharp 
orders,  the  rifles  came  from  the  "slope"  to  the 
"ready,"  and  those  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
throng  saw  a  number  of  war-stained  kilties  ad- 
vancing on  them  with  threatening  mien. 

By  some  magic  a  way  was  opened  out.  The 
vanguard  knew  exactly  how  to  act,  and  faced 
about  when  the  main  gates  were  reached.  Here 
there  was  a  hitch,  but  a  threat  to  fire  a  volley 
through  the  bars  was  effectual,  and  the  whole 
party  got  through,  though  even  the  hardened 
doctors  looked  grave  when  they  heard  the  wail 
of  anguish  that  went  up  from  the  multitude 
without  as  the  gates  clashed  against  further 
ingress. 

Of  course,  as  might  be  expected,  there  were 
hundreds  of  influential  people,  both  British  sub- 
jects and  Belgians,  already  inside.  To  them 


276  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

Dalroy  gave  no  immediate  heed.  Merely  re- 
questing the  doctor  to  keep  his  contingent  to- 
gether and  distinct,  he  sought  the  harbour- 
master. 

No  orders  had  been  received  as  yet  from  the 
mayor,  and  the  incoming  steamer,  quite  a  small 
craft,  was  already  in  the  channel. 

The  harbour-master,  a  decent  fellow,  whose 
sole  anxiety  was  to  act  for  the  best,  readily 
agreed  to  Dalroy 's  plan,  so  the  vessel,  whose 
skipper  had  actually  brought  her  to  Ostend 
that  evening  "on  spec,"  as  he  put  it,  was 
moored  at  a  distance  of  some  ten  feet  from  the 
quay. 

"How  many  people  can  you  carry?"  was 
Dalroy 's  first  question  to  the  captain. 

"Well,  sir,"  came  the  surprising  answer, 
"we're  licensed  by  the  Board  of  Trade  to  carry 
forty-five  passengers  in  summer,  but,  in  a  pinch 
like  this,  I'll  try  and  stow  away  two  hundred!" 

After  that  there  was  no  hitch.  A  gangway 
was  fixed  in  position,  the  armed  guard  were 
disposed  around  it,  and  the  doctors  and  Dal- 
roy, with  a  representative  of  the  burgomaster 
who  arrived  later,  constituted  themselves  a 
committee  of  selection.  The  hospital  staff  and 
their  patients  were  placed  on  board  first. 
Wounded  soldiers  picked  up  in  Ostend  itself 
were  given  the  next  claim.  Then  British  sub- 
jects, and,  finally,  Belgian  refugees,  were  ad- 
mitted. 

It  was  a  long  and  tedious  yet  almost  heart- 


"CARRY  ON!"  277 


breaking  business,  but  the  order  of  priority 
established  a  method  whereby  claims  might  be 
tested  with  some  show  of  equity.  At  last,  at 
some  hour,  none  knew  or  cared  exactly  when, 
the  steamer  forged  slowly  out  into  the  channel, 
backed,  and  swung,  amid  the  shrieks  and  lamen- 
tations of  the  thousands  who  were  left  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  Kultur. 

In  addition  to  her  crew,  she  carried  739  pas- 
sengers, mostly  wounded  soldiers,  women,  and 
children ! 

There  was  no  room  to  lie  down,  save  in  the 
space  rigidly  preserved  for  the  stretcher  cases. 
The  decks,  the  cabins,  the  holds,  were  packed 
tight  with  a  living  freight.  Surely  never  before 
has  vessel  put  to  sea  so  loaded  with  human 
beings. 

The  captain  decided  not  to  attempt  the  cross- 
ing by  night  and  lay  to  till  morning.  The  ship 's 
boats  returned  to  the  quay,  and  brought  off 
some  food  and  water. 

Meanwhile,  leaders  of  sections  were  chosen, 
the  people  were  instructed  as  to  the  danger  of 
lurching,  and  ropes  were  arranged  so  that  any 
unexpected  movement  of  the  hull  might  be 
counteracted. 

At  eight  o'clock  next  morning  the  engines 
were  started ;  at  ten  o  'clock  that  night  the  ship 
was  berthed  at  Dover.  By  the  mercy  of  Provi- 
dence the  sea  remained  smooth  all  day,  though 
the  mid-channel  tidal  swell  caused  dangerous 
and  anxious  moments.  Of  course,  there  were 


278  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

mine-fields  to  be  avoided,  and  strong  tides  to  be 
cheated,  but,  allowing  for  these  hindrances,  the 
trip  occupied  fourteen  hours,  whereas  the  Bel- 
gian mail-packets  employed  on  the  same  jour- 
ney used  to  adhere  steadily  to  a  schedule  of 
three  hours  and  three-quarters ! 

On  the  way,  death  took  his  dread  toll  among 
the  wounded,  but  to  nothing  like  the  extent  that 
might  well  have  been  feared.  The  bringing  of 
that  great  company  of  people  from  the  horrors 
of  the  German  occupation  of  Belgium  to  the  safe 
harbourage  of  the  United  Kingdom  was  a  mag- 
nificent achievement,  worthy  of  high  place  in 
the  crowded  and  glorious  annals  of  British 
seamanship. 

So  Irene  and  her  true  knight  met  once  more, 
only  to  part  again  after  three  blissful  days. 
This  time,  Dalroy  went  to  France,  and  took  his 
place  in  the  fighting  line.  He  endured  the 
drudgery  of  that  first  winter  in  the  trenches, 
shared  in  the  gain  and  loss  of  Neuve  Chapelle, 
earned  his  majority,  and  seemed  to  lead  a 
charmed  life  until  a  high  explosive  shell  burst 
a  little  too  close  during  the  second  day  at  Loos. 

He  was  borne  off  the  field  as  one  nearly  dead. 
But  his  wounds  were  slight,  and  he  had  only 
been  stunned  by  the  concussion.  By  the  time 
this  diagnosis  was  confirmed,  however,  he  was 
at  home  and  enjoying  six  weeks'  leave. 

Nothing  very  remarkable  would  have  hap- 
pened if  the  Earl  of  Glastonbury,  an  elderly  but 


CARRY  ON!"  279 


most  observant  peer,  had  not  created  a  rare 
commotion  one  day  at  luncheon. 

Dalroy  was  up  in  town  after  a  few  days '  rest 
at  his  uncle 's  vicarage  in  the  Midlands ;  he  and 
the  younger  members  of  the  household  were 
planning  a  round  of  theatres  and  suchlike  dis- 
sipations, when  the  Earl  said  quietly : 

"You  people  seem  to  be  singularly  devoid  of 
original  ideas.  George  Alexander,  Charlie 
Hawtrey,  and  the  latest  revue  star  provide  a 
sure  and  certain  refuge  for  every  country 
cousin  who  comes  to  London  for  a  fortnight's 
mild  dissipation.'* 

"What  do  you  suggest,  dad?"  demanded 
Irene. 

* '  Why  not  have  a  war  wedding  I ' ' 

"Oh,  let's!"  cried  the  flapper  sister  ecstat- 
ically. 

Dalroy  swallowed  whole  some  article  of  food, 
and  Irene  blushed  scarlet.  But  "father"  had 
said  the  thing,  and  "mother"  had  smiled,  so 
Dalroy,  whose  wildest  dreams  hitherto  had 
dwelt  on  marriage  at  the  close  of  the  war  as  a 
remote  possibility,  bestirred  himself  like  a  good 
soldier-man,  rushing  all  fences  at  top  speed. 

The  brother  in  the  Guards  secured  five  days ' 
leave,  a  wounded  but  exceedingly  good-looking 
Bengal  Lancer  was  empanelled  as  "best  man" 
(to  the  joy  and  torment  of  the  flapper,  who 
pined  during  a  whole  week  after  his  departure), 
and,  almost  before  they  well  knew  what  was 
happening,  Dalroy  and  his  bride  found  them- 


280  THE  DAY  OF  WRATH 

selves  speeding  toward  Devon  in  a  fine  car  on 
their  honeymoon. 

"And  why  not?"  growled  the  Earl,  striving 
to  comfort  his  wife  when  she  wept  a  little  at  the 
thought  that  her  beautiful  daughter,  her  eldest- 
born,  would  henceforth  have  a  nest  of  her  own. 
"Dash  it  all,  Mollie,  they'll  only  be  young  once, 
and  this  rotten  war  looks  like  lasting  a  decade ! 
Had  we  searched  the  British  Isles  we  couldn't 
have  found  a  better  mate  for  our  girl.  He's 
just  the  sort  of  chap  who  will  worship  Irene  all 
his  life,  and  he  has  in  him  the  makings  of  a 
future  commander-in-chief,  or  I'm  a  Dutch- 
man ! ' ' 

As  his  lordship  is  certainly  not  a  Dutchman, 
but  unmistakably  English,  aristocratic,  and 
county,  it  is  permissible  to  hope  that  his 
prophecy  may  be  fulfilled.  Let  us  hope,  too,  if 
Dalroy  ever  leads  the  armed  manhood  of 
Britain,  it  will  be  a  cohort  formed  to  render 
aggressive  war  impossible.  That,  at  least,  is  no 
idle  dream.  It  should  be  the  sure  and  only  out- 
come of  the  world's  greatest  agony. 


THE   END 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


J  AN  15 19! 


0 


A     000  040  656     1 


